


Wendy

by gloria_andrews



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coming Out, Fluff, Football Player Harry, M/M, Punk Louis, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 11:09:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 55,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloria_andrews/pseuds/gloria_andrews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story about Punk!Louis and Regular!Harry.  They are in a band called Wendy, and they want to win Battle of the Bands, but Harry has stage fright!! What will happen?? Will they fall in love???</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to say first off, I am American and I don't know anything about the English school system. Also, they pretty much talk like Americans, I mean, I did my best to like say football and pitch and match and jumper and mum everything. But really, I'm sure they sound aggressively American. Sorry about that. 
> 
> The chapters get longer as it goes along. 
> 
> I want to dedicate this fanfic to my wonderful friend RAOTS, for reading it while it was a WIP. And also for being friends with me for so long. I love you. I think you know.
> 
> This is my first fanfic, besides the ones I wrote about myself and Orlando Bloom 12 years ago when I was obsessed with LOTR. I hope you like it! I hope someone reads it!!

Louis hadn’t taken the shortcut home in about three weeks, not since Zayn had started an afterschool job at the petrol station at the end of Farwell. Louis had been walking Zayn to work every day, even though it was slightly out of the way and he had to back track on Astor to get home. He didn’t mind.  Sometimes Zayn gave him an orange soda for free.

“Don’t they keep track of this shit?” He’d asked the first time, feeling a little uneasy.

“I get a free soda every shift.  I’m not going to rot _my_ teeth.  So you might as well have it.” Zayn shrugged, clipping his nametag to the blue polo shirt he had to wear.  It was polyester and hideous.

“Mate. It’s a uniform,” Zayn said, rolling his eyes at the look on Louis’s face.  

“Still.” Louis said with a laugh, turning to go, the bell on the door chiming as he pushed it open. He held up the Sunkist above his head and moved it around, calling over his shoulder as he left, “Thanks, man!”

Zayn just nodded, twirling a ballpoint pen as he waited for a customer.

This particular afternoon, though, Zayn had gone home sick during their History lesson, so Louis was taking the shortcut again. It ran along the edge of the athletic fields, where school property abutted the ruins of the old Vetter window factory.  It was a fairly well beaten path between the high brick wall that surrounded the factory and the ivy covered chain link fence around the fields.   It felt to Louis like walking down a secret tunnel.  Zayn was less enthusiastic.

“It’s not even a true shortcut.” He would say, “It’s really just a different route.”

And Louis would look at him with his eyebrows raised, blinking.

“We are not walking a hypotenuse right now, Lou… You realize this is no shorter than walking down North Point and turning on Second, right?” And then Louis would have to preempt him if he didn’t want to hear a spiel about the Pythagorean theorem. Again.

Eventually Louis had gotten Zayn to agree to refer to it as “the shortcut”, not because the actual path made their trip home any quicker, but because using that phrase was much less cumbersome, “It’s a _verbal_ shortcut to say shortcut, Malik.  Do you wanna have to say “let’s take the way that goes behind the football pitch by the window factory.” Every single time we go this way?” He’d asked,  “I personally feel exhausted just from saying all of that out loud right now.”

But Louis knew what Zayn was thinking every time he said it, that his friend was always on the verge of saying “the back way.  Let’s just call it the back way, instead.”  Walking down the leafy tunnel alone that Thursday afternoon, it was making him smile and shake his head. 

It had rained the past couple of days, so the path was muddy and a pain to navigate and no one else was around.  Louis was truly by himself, or at least he thought so at first.  When he stopped to light a cigarette after teetering through a particularly extensive puddle on his tiptoes, he realized differently.  Several members of the football team were practicing just on the other side of the fence and Louis could see them through a rather large gap in the ivy.  Taking his first real drag on the cigarette, Louis grabbed the chain link fence with his open hand and settled in to watch.

He’d played football as a kid, even through his early teens, and he’d been quite good actually. But then music had become so much more interesting and the requirement that your earrings be removed prior to participating had seemed like such an annoyance.  So Louis quit.  But he still loved the game. 

They were taking turns practicing free kicks from outside the box, trying to get a good curl on them.  Louis had watched a hyperactive blond kid with an Irish accent take about three shots when he noticed the boy standing on the sideline waiting for his turn.  At first, Louis was able to return his attention to the activity on the field, watching the Irish kid successfully net another ball, but his eyes kept tracking back over to the sideline, to the boy who was standing there, rolling a ball back and forth with his right foot as he waited.  Something about the way this kid’s clothes fell on him just right was making it increasingly difficult for Louis to look away.   It didn’t take long before he gave in and just started staring.

The kid was facing away from him, watching his teammates on the pitch.  He had broad shoulders and a long back, and his worn cotton t-shirt was shifting in the breeze, the slight billowing of the fabric calling attention to the narrowness of his waist. The pair of navy blue sweatpants that hung from hips seemed to underline the lean lines of his body and the absurdly perfect length of his legs.  Louis swallowed and he realized he was biting his lip.

_Christ, he’s lanky_ , he thought, as he took another drag on his cigarette.

He was trying to tear himself away, get himself to move along down the path before he became the creeper in the ivy, that weird “Goth kid” that watched them play football and thought they didn’t notice. But before he could get himself to move, the Irish kid’s voice boomed across the field.

“Styles! Oi! Harry! You’re up!” Irish said, waving his arms above his head, like he was trying to flag down a rescue ship.   There was a brief pause, and then that beautiful body trotted out onto the field and the boy turned around to face the goal. 

And Louis made a small sound under his breath, half curse, half snort of disbelief.

_What the fuck kind of face is that?_ He thought.

Louis had never found anyone so immediately attractive in his whole life and he choked on a laugh as the realization rushed though his body, shooting out into his fingertips and making them tingle, his forgotten cigarette involuntarily shaking off ash.

_Ridiculous_ he thought as his grip tightened on the chain link.

  This Harry Styles, whoever he was, this football player, had straight, dark eyebrows that set off his ivory skin, large, beautiful eyes, and wonderful curly brown hair. And he had dimples.  Well, at least _a_ dimple.  Louis had seen it when someone had kicked a football to the boy with a little too much force, a little too close to his face, and Harry had flinched and jumped away chuckling.  

Louis rolled his eyes at himself, realizing he’d already catalogued that moment in his mind so he could replay it later on.  _This really is ridiculous, leave._ He knew he’d been staring longer than he should have, that he really should stop looking very soon if he wanted to avoid detection, but he couldn’t stop.  It felt like all he wanted to do for the rest of his life was devour this boy with this eyes.  

_You are completely ridiculous_ he thought again, shaking his head, still rooted on the spot.  There were so many things running through his mind: _How is this the first time I’ve seen him?  How is it possible I didn’t notice him before? Why are you getting so worked up about this? He mostly like is 100% straight! Ridiculous! You are ridiculous! Could you even handle being with someone that pretty anyway? Hot. He’s hot. Not just pretty._

And that’s when it happened.  Hot and Pretty Harry Styles miskicked the ball and it swung wide to the left of the goal, rising as it went.  It clipped the top of the chain link fence directly above Louis’s head with a surprising amount of force as it cleared it. Louis startled and let out an incredibly undignified combination of gasp and shriek, leaping back from the fence and dropping his cigarette in the process.  The ball had come to rest in the lake of a puddle he’d recently managed to ford.  Of course now that seemed like it was from a different lifetime. Now, hot and pretty Harry Styles was jogging toward Louis, bearing down on him every second, his hands half raised up, as if to say, “Hey, could you throw me that football that went over the fence, weird creepy ivy watcher.”  Louis couldn’t be sure about the last part, but that’s how it felt. Pretending he wasn’t there obviously wasn’t an option.

_Well, he’s just going to have to relax here for a minute._ Louis thought as he surveyed the situation.  Judging by the line on the ball it was in at least 2” of water.  _Fuck if I’m going to ruin these shoes because this beautiful idiot can’t take a free kick._ Louis had had his Chuck’s custom designed, they were light blue and the left one had a skull on it, the right one a bulldog.  They both had a smattering of rhinestones.

Louis moved quickly, glancing over his shoulder at Harry’s looming figure.  He stood on a tuft of relatively clean grass, right up against the ivy, and yanked off his shoes and socks as fast as possible, stacking them neatly where they would be safe from all the mud.  He cuffed up his trousers as best he could and began to tip toe out into the puddle. He felt the mud squish between his toes. That actually wasn’t unpleasant.  But the water was.  It was cold and he winced and scrunched his shoulders up as he crept forward. _I probably look like a stupid praying mantis right now._ He thought.

“Hey.” Harry Styles’ voice came from behind him.  It was deeper than Louis’d expected and a bit hoarse.  

Louis peered back toward the field, trying to see, but not wanting to swivel his neck too much as it might throw off his balance and walking home covered in puddle water would really suck.  Also falling over in front of someone this beautiful just wouldn’t be ok. 

He could see Harry Styles was standing at the fence now, his chest rising and falling heavily and his fingers in the chain link, just where Louis’s had been.

“Hey. Oh hey,” The boy said again, sounding genuinely apologetic, “You don’t have to do that…I mean, it’d be no problem…I could, I could hop the fence...” His voice trailed off and he looked almost sheepish now, shoving a hand in his hair as Louis advanced into the puddle toward the ball.

“It’s ok.” Louis’s voice came out as a squeak.  He rolled his eyes again. 

Finally, he reached the ball; snatching it up and tip toeing quickly back out of the puddle the way he’d come.

_Do not mess this up_ He told himself in his head as he prepared to toss the ball over the fence.  It was probably only a 10-foot fence and Louis felt preemptively humiliated just thinking about how dumb he would look if he didn’t manage to get it over.

Harry Styles stood expectantly on the other side, his eyes, which Louis could now see were an entirely unfair shade of green, were wide and his hands slightly raised again, prepared to catch the ball. 

Louis took and breath and then tossed it up and over the fence underhanded, breathing a silent sigh of relief as it landed in Harry’s hands.

“Thanks, Man.”  Harry said, wincing again apologetically, “Sorry about that.”

Louis started to shake his head, waving off the apology.  “No…” He began. Louis’d intended to say “no problem” but right as he started to speak his eyes met Harry’s and he completely lost his train of thought.  He just stood there, dazed, staring into this boy’s eyes, and he couldn’t look away. And Harry Styles had on a little half smile now, and it looked a little like he was blushing, and he was definitely ducking his head a little, but not breaking eye contact.  And Louis realized that he couldn’t prevent himself from smiling, that he was almost grinning at this boy! And his heart was racing! It was absurd how fast it was racing.  And then it was over.

“Styles!” A voice came ringing over from the football pitch.  Not the Irish kid this time, obviously someone older, a coach, “Styles!  What is the bloody hold up? Quit flirting and get back over here.” And then Harry was blushing for certain, and saying, “Thanks, again.” As he turned and jogged away, throwing a couple of looks back over his shoulder as he went.  And Louis just stood there and watched him go and then whispered, “No problem.” At last, staring down at his tidily piled socks and shoes. 

_Well maybe he isn’t 100% straight after all_ Louis thought, before telling himself to please not be an idiot.  He leaned down and picked up his stuff, tucking the socks more securely into his shoes, and headed off down the path barefoot.  No matter how hard he tried as he walked home, he couldn’t stop seeing Harry’s eyes in his head or prevent this strange rising hope from filing up his chest, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. _This is fucking awful._ He thought. _This is really fucking awful._ But really it wasn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry was the last one in the locker room that night.  He’d run some extra laps around the pitch after practice, thinking it might help him deal with all of this manic energy he was feeling.  He’d had a strange coiled feeling in his chest, really his entire body, ever since fucking _Louis Tomlinson_ had tiptoed out into a puddle barefoot to retrieve a football for him and then smiled at him.

_You are out of your depth_ he thought, as he tugged off his boots, setting them on the bench next to him.  He sat for a while before progressing any further with undressing. It was a strange sort of energy their interaction had filled him with.  He wanted to jump up and down twenty five times as fast as he could and run up and down some stairs and do a couple high karate kicks and maybe a few punches, but also he wanted to sit and stare into space and think about Louis for hours and hours. 

_For crying out loud, get a hold of yourself._  But it was difficult.  It was very very difficult.  Harry had been aware of Louis for such a long time.  Painfully aware.  Since year 9.  Since the holiday concert that year.  Harry had sung in the choir, and Gemma had come to watch with her friend Nick, who was in upper sixth form.  Nick was so much older and so cool, Harry thought.  Harry’d always been fascinated by him for reasons he’d only just begun to work out. 

After the show that year, his mother and Robin had been chatting with other parents, so Harry got to stand around in the auditorium with Gemma and Nick and they were teasing him about having to wear a cummerbund and a bowtie for his ridiculous choir outfit.  He was pouting, but he was happy really, because they were fussing over him and Nick kept messing with his hair.

And then Harry saw that Nick was staring at something up on the stage, at someone really.

Nick cocked his head to the side and raised his chin at Gemma, “Who’s the punk fairy on the drums?” he asked.  

And Gemma had smiled and said, “Louis Tomlinson…Why, you have a crush on him, Grimmy?”

And Nick had a made a face and shrugged and said, “Maybe, maybe not.  But that kid looks just exactly how he wants.  And I don’t know about you, but I find that to be very impressive.”  And Gemma had laughed in agreement.

Harry, who’d blushed scarlet as soon as the conversation began, and who’d been studying the concert program intensely and kicking the base of the one of the theater chairs to play it off as if he wasn’t listening, felt his neck snap up so he could get a good look at this kid. 

And there was Louis Tomlinson, adjusting the hi hat on the drum kit on the stage, stepping back from it and standing with one hip cocked to the side as he looked at it. A drumstick twirled in his right hand in a smooth easy motion. And Harry knew exactly what Nick had meant, he knew right away, and it floored him.  Louis was wearing just about the same outfit as Harry, a white shirt, a black bowtie and black pants.  But it didn’t look ridiculous at all.  Louis wasn’t wearing a cummerbund, he was wearing black braces, and Harry was pretty sure the silver clips that attached them to his pants were shaped like the head of a lion.  The crisp button down he was wearing looked like it had been tailored for his body, his pants as well.  Why hadn’t Harry ever realized how excruciatingly nice pants could look on someone’s body before?  How did Louis’s seem to cling to and hang from his hips at the same time?  Louis was wearing a jet-black stud in each ear.  And eyeliner!  He was wearing black eyeliner around his very blue eyes.  And he had a post in his eyebrow.  And his hair was dyed so black that Harry started thinking about comic books, and how they highlight it with blue when it’s that dark.  And it was tousled just so, Louis’s hair.  _He really does look just like he wants._ Harry had thought, _but it only works this well because his face is so pretty._

And then Nick said, “See, looks like Harry fancies him too.” And he and Gemma started laughing and Harry normally would have died of mortification on the spot but he couldn’t be bothered to stop looking at Louis.  They left shortly after that, Robin had started pointedly looking at his wristwatch and sort of making faces of desperation at Gemma across the auditorium, urging them to come rescue him from all these people by telling their mother it was time to go.

But Harry had thought of Louis and his wonderful face the rest of the weekend.  And then he’d seen a flash of Louis in the corridor at school on Monday, and from then on he knew he’d never stopped wanting to see him.  And he hadn’t.  He’d never stopped noticing Louis Tomlinson, who always looked just how he wanted (and how Harry wanted too), and he’d never talked to him either.  Until today.

Harry bit his lip as he finally tugged off the rest of his clothes and wrapped a towel around his waist, trying to shake the absurd feeling that it was the start of something.  _You’ll probably go another three years before you ever talk to him again._ He snorted at himself and rolled his eyes. _You’ll probably never even interact again for the rest of your life, you moron._ But then he remembered how Louis’s eyes had looked as he’d smiled at him, they’d twinkled, damn it! His heart rate sped up at the thought and such a rush of that same strange indefinable energy filled his body, the energy that had plagued him since talking to Louis that afternoon, that he involuntarily flapped his arms up and down to expend it, like some kind of bizarre half human/ half crane.  He was truly lucky he was alone.  _Jesus Christ you weirdo!_ He thought and he slid on his shower shoes and went to take a shower. 


	3. Chapter 3

Louis fucked around on his drums in the garage for a couple of hours after he got home that night.  He’d tried to avoid it at first, tried to force himself to think about what the hell he was going to do for Battle of the Bands next month instead, but his thoughts kept circling back to Harry Styles as he played.  It was crazy, because previously Battle of the Bands had been the thing he’d been avoiding thinking about, Battle of the Bands and everything painful it was tangentially related to.  But now his pride was fighting against an onslaught of thoughts about Hot and Pretty Harry Styles, and he was struggling not to lose. When Louis realized he’d actually whispered, “I wonder if Harry Styles can sing,” out loud, he knew it was a lost cause. After that he just let his mind dwell there.

  He kept having the same thoughts he’d had at the football pitch, over enjoying the mental image of Harry standing with his back to him, the wind rustling in his sweats, and then wondering how he’d possibly been unaware of someone like that for so long.   How had he missed him? Was Harry new?  Wouldn’t that have made it more noticeable when he’d shown up?  Being new AND insanely attractive?  Louis would definitely have noticed that.  He’d been so sure that he had every fit guy at Oswald Academy catalogued in his head.  It wasn’t something he did on purpose.  He just usually noticed them, absorbed the information and tucked it away.  _He can’t be more than two years younger.  There is no_ WAY _he’s older._ He thought, running through the solo on one of his old songs on pure muscle memory.

Louis wanted to call Zayn and ask him about Harry, but he had to figure out an angle first.  Zayn would obviously know about Harry, that’s just the way it was, and that was nice. Louis figured that it was maybe a combination of being otherworldly beautiful and also seeming incredibly chill (emphasis on the _seeming_ , Zayn could get so worked up about some things, like his hair or the proper use of the term “shortcut” for example) but with seemingly absolutely no effort exerted on his part, Zayn seemed to know everyone and everyone seemed to know Zayn.  What Louis didn’t want to deal with was the part where Zayn would ask, “Wulll, why are _you_ so interested?”  And then inevitably, Zayn would get a soft look, maybe even a hopeful look, on his stupid beautiful face and whether or not he asked it out loud, the question would be there, “So does this mean you’re over it with Aiden, then?”  And that was definitely not something Louis wanted to talk about, not with Zayn, not with himself.  Just letting it flit through his mind as something to be avoided made him feel uneasy.  And then he felt uneasy about his uneasiness.  And then he was cursing under his breath and pounding much too hard on the drums, like an inelegant beginner, which wasn’t to be tolerated.

 So he definitely needed an angle, some reason to be bringing up Harry Styles that managed to obscure the fact the Louis thought he was incredibly beautiful and wanted to touch his face before kissing him and other things and by the way, was this boy heterosexual? No? Wonderful! But he couldn’t for the life of him come up with one right now.  What was he going to say, “So Zayn, just tell me everything about every member of the footy team…no reason. And, Go!”?

 So he just kept playing and thinking about Harry and his dimples and occasionally about battle of the bands again, but mostly about the dimples.

His little sister Lottie came out to the garage around 7:45 to remind him about the rule that he had to stop playing the drums at 7:30 to avoid pissing off the neighbors.

She stood in the doorway looking unimpressed, already in her pajama pants and clutching her phone, but didn’t say anything.  So Louis kept playing like he hadn’t sensed her presence. He was glad she couldn’t quite see his face from where she stood, because the more he could feel her annoyance growing over the fact that he hadn’t acknowledged her, the bigger the smirk on his face got.  After about a minute and a half she finally broke.

“Louis!” she said at last, her voice sharp. He kept playing.

“Louis!” she shouted this time. “Hey! Louis!” and he stilled his hands and looked over his shoulder with a “what the hell do you want?” expression on his face.

“Uhhh, It’s almost quarter of eight.” She said, huffily, in response, her eyes wide, brows raised

“And?” Louis asked in his most innocent tone, forcing his face to fall slack and slightly quizzical.  He tried not to let his mouth twitch.

She gave him another look, pressing her chin down into her neck, the most “are you kidding me?” one she could possibly manage.

“What?” he asked again.

She pointedly repositioned her chin, reiterating her “are you kidding me?” message.

Louis gave her a look back this time, raising his own eyebrows and also his hands as if to return to playing.

“Ummmm you know you’re supposed to stop playing at 7:30, that’s the rule!” she finally blurted out in a single indignant and very high-pitched breath.

“ohhhhhhhhh. Oh right,” Louis said, still keeping his laughter in check. “Right.  Oh, thank you, Lottie. I completely forgot. Silly me.  Sorry, lost track of time!”  He got up slowly, putting his drumsticks in a protective sleeve with a deceptive calm.  He knew she was watching his every move. “How considerate of you to remind me, not sure how to return the favor.” He said.  And then he turned and started advancing toward her as quickly as he could, with his arms outstretched in a clear tickle threat, exaggerated evil laughter coming out of him, now.

“Louiiiiiiiiis, You are the worst!” Lottie shrieked.  She whirled around to run back into the house, stumbling over her too long flannel pants and choking on laughter as she went. Louis chased her into the kitchen and she skidded across the floor in her socks, coming to a stop behind their mother, who was reading something on the internet at the kitchen table.  Lottie grasped their mother’s shoulders and used her as a defensive wall against Louis, who was still laughing in the doorway with his arms outstretched.

“I knew it! I told you! I knew he knew what time it was!” she said, gasping for breath, while trying and failing to sound legitimately angry.

“Mum!! Muuuuuuummmm!”  She shrieked again, as Louis took a step forward. “Keep him away from meeee!”

She darted around the couch that separated the kitchen from the living room before pelting up the stairs almost on all fours. The door to her bedroom slammed a few seconds later.

Louis made himself a glass of refreshing ice water (4 ice cubes, the perfect amount) and then leaned against the refrigerator, chuckling and feeling very happy with himself.

His mum met his eyes overtop of her computer, a look of mild amusement on her face.  “Make sure you turn off the light in the garage.” was all she said.


	4. Chapter 4

“Well, fundamentally I feel that you’re being selfish, Harry.  That’s truly how I feel.  Utterly selfish. No regard for others and what you might be depriving them of.” Niall said, as he tuned his guitar, “I guess that’s just your nature though.”

Harry laughed and rolled his eyes.

It was Friday, after footy practice.  They were at Niall’s again, as usual for a Friday, dicking around on the instruments in the basement and occasionally getting it together to sing a song, as was their way.  Niall’s family had moved in 2 houses down from Harry’s three summers before. Harry had been walking back home from the petrol station down the street after getting a Mars Bar and a Diet Coke, when an enormously fat squirrel had darted in front of him on sidewalk and run smack into the trunk of the small maple tree in Niall’s front yard. Not up the tree- just like right into it. Harry had been almost helpless with laughter, because of the way it had bounced right off the tree and then continued to run across the yard as if it was pretending nothing had happened.  And he’d become completely incapacitated when he heard very loud laughing and then a highly amused Irish voice pipe up from behind a hedge in the yard. “Nice try, tubs, we all saw!!!!”  They’d pretty much been best mates ever since.  

Harry loved Niall because it was always nice to have someone to be the most completely nerdy version of yourself around.  And for the past nine months or so, the nerdiest versions of Harry and Niall could be found in Niall’s basement, telling each other increasingly elaborate stories about how later they would be a famous singing duo together and everyone would love them. They’d even be big in America.  They’d actually gone as far as writing some songs together, which Harry felt pretty proud of.  Even if they were probably terrible.  And even if Harry knew he’d never _really_ be able to perform them in front of anyone, since the thought of it made him sweat. And feel like he might throw up.

Niall was aware of the fact that thinking about performing together in public made Harry sweat and feel vomit-y, but he was nevertheless trying to convince Harry to let him enter them in Battle of the Bands that year, for the 24,000th time.

“I can’t sing in front of that many people, Nialler.” Harry reiterated, also for the 24,000th time.

“You were in fucking choir for how many years, Styles?” Niall asked, looking up from the guitar, “hmm?”

“Ok, I cannot sing _alone_ in front of that many people.” Harry amended, clinking some of the piano keys.

Niall threw his right hand up into the air in exasperation, “Why are you always disregarding the fact that I would be up there singing with you?” he asked.

“You pretty much only sing during the choruses!” Harry shot back, immediately regretting it. Niall was about to have a field day.

 “Ohhhhhh ohhhh so that’s how it is? I see.  Excuse me, I hadn’t realized.  Suddenly it’s not “Styles & Horan” anymore, huh?” Niall said, balancing his guitar on his knee so he had both hands free and could deploy air quotes at his leisure.  “oh no. oh no. Its just “Styles” now I suppose? Or “Styles by himself with anonymous Irishman on the guitar behind him.” Wait wait, they won’t even know I’m Irish!  So it’s “With anonymous man on the guitar who you probably didn’t notice, he’s only for the choruses-not important.” that’s how it is?” 

“Shut up. You know that’s not what I meant.” Harry said, smiling in spite of himself. He knew that Niall could see that he was actually starting to feel a little guilty about saying no yet again, because Niall immediately waved his hand around and said, “Ok, ok, it’s fine.  I get it. I don’t want to pressure you into it.”  He paused and strummed a little on the guitar, “Well, really I do, but that’s enough for today.”

They warmed up with their cover of God Only Knows, which really was sounding good these days.  And after it was over, Niall looked at Harry and said, “You know, you really are quite good, Hazza.  That’s why I push.  We’re getting pretty good, I think.  We both are.”

Harry sighed and rubbed his face with his hands.

“You know who’d be there, right?” Niall said, a mischievous twinkle back in his eye and a smirk on his face, “He’s there every year…The Goth God of the Drums.”

Harry blushed.  He’d come out to Niall about a year before.  Gemma had left a cache of wine coolers in her room after she’d gone back to Uni in the fall. Harry and Niall had stumbled upon them one afternoon while using her full-length mirror so Niall could see how his new high tops looked with his pants.  (“I just need to see the whole picture, you know?  I mean, they’ve only got those stupid little foot mirrors at the shoe shop.” ) They had subsequently gotten quite drunk, lying on their backs and looking at the poster of Viggo Mortensen as Aragorn that Gemma had on the ceiling over her bed. 

“I think I might do him.” Niall had said, obviously only serious in the most hypothetical of ways. 

But then Harry had giggled and rolled onto his side to look at Niall and before he could stop himself, said, “Nialler, I think I’m gay.”

And Niall had said, “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, I know.  I know that I’m gay.” And his face had been burning with nervous embarrassment, and he felt a little like he was having an out of body experience, but he’d kept laughing because of his buzz. 

“Well, cheers, mate.” Niall had replied.  And they’d clinked their Smirnoff Raspberry Twisters together and then Niall had had Harry list off all the actors he wanted to shag.

Later, when they sobered up a little, but not all the way, Niall had gotten all serious on Harry and told him how it meant a lot to him that Harry trusted him enough to tell him something that significant.  And Harry could still remember the way the friendship warmth had expanded in his heart.  He was always glad Nialler was a sentimental drunk, because Harry was too.

Niall was still the only person he’d ever officially told.  He was highly aware that his family probably knew already, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud just yet.  He didn’t quite want to give Gemma the satisfaction. 

Anyway, so Niall knew that Harry was gay.  And, because of other moments of drunken weakness, he also knew about his tragically enormous crush on Louis Tomlinson.  And now he was trying to use this knowledge for evil.

Harry rolled his eyes.  “Ni, I can still go to Battle of the Bands and watch.” He said.  He shook his head, trying to rid it of memories of last year’s competition.  Niall might know a lot of stuff about him, but he knew nothing about how Harry’s pathetic little weirdo’s heart had ached that night, seeing the way Louis was looking at that older kid in his band.  _I wish I could be more like Fantasy Harry,_ He thought.  Fantasy Harry was always doing things like shoving The Goth God of the Drums up against lockers and kissing him.  Or just casually dropping hints of his homosexuality into everyday conversations with anyone and everyone.  Or singing with Niall in front of a crowd of people, who were hushed into awed silence by their heartbreakingly beautiful music!!!  Real Life Harry was super boring in comparison.

“Yeah, but if we were contestants, or whatever, you might be able to use it as an excuse to actually talk to the guy!” Niall said, “Or do you not think you’d be physically capable of that? Would you be too star struck?”

“Shut up.” Harry said, with a snort.  He was about to bite back that he’d managed to exchange at least 3 or 4 words with Louis just the day before, but a flash of the way Louis’s eyes had looked when he’d smiled at him appeared in his mind again and Harry felt suddenly aware that the story of their interaction would sound insignificant somehow when he relayed it to Niall.  That he wouldn’t be able to explain that Louis had smiled at him, in this _way_.  In this specific _way_.  So all he ended up saying was, “I could do it. I could talk to him.” His voice soft. 

“Yeah,” Niall said. “You could! That’s why we should enter!”  But then he let the subject drop and they played about 3 more songs before Michael Davies, football team captain, texted them that his parents had abruptly gone out of town so everyone was getting drunk at his house that night, so they should probably come over.  Which they did. 


	5. Chapter 5

Louis had been alone all weekend.  He’d just been sort of wallowing and then skateboarding by himself and then skateboarding by himself while trying to cultivate an air of tragic and mysterious wallowy-ness.  It wasn’t really his fault if the 13 year old girls at the skate park thought he was dreamy and fit, was it?  Louis couldn’t help it if he always enjoyed an audience; it made him raise his game.  He wondered idly, after a particularly graceful Ollie, if the girls just didn’t care, or if they weren’t paying attention enough to notice it wasn’t ever going to be in the cards, (Louis smirked because could hear Zayn’s mocking voice in his head  “Yeah, that’s it Tommo, you’re so fucking gorgeous you’re transcendent.” It was nice that they were both so vain. It was such an easy thing to take the piss out of each other about.  “Don’t think I don’t see you looking at your reflection in those shop windows, Malik.”) Because Louis knew, and had pretty much always known, that he was fairly obviously gay. 

It was something everyone had just always been aware of, since he was like eight years old and he’d had a crush on the red power ranger.  It hadn’t always been easy, clearly.  And on occasion, Louis had suppressed it, his obvious gayness, when he was with people he felt unsure about or in an unknown environment.  But he didn’t like to do that; he didn’t like the way it felt.  It was always a relief when it was over.

Recently, sitting in the skate park after dark, he and Zayn had tried to analyze it.

“I mean, I’m not particularly girlie, am I?”

“No, no…Well, whatever “girlie” means.  But no, I don’t think so” Zayn had laughed, pausing “Welllll, sometimes the wrist though.”

And they both laughed and Louis exaggerated it for him.

“You know how to make me happy, Tommo.”

“Oh, Super Flaming Tommo is your favorite, then?”

Zayn had collapsed into giggles.

“New Super Hero Name.” They’d both said simultaneously.

“Jinx” also simultaneously.  Even more giggling.

“I don’t know, man.” Zayn said, “There’s just a quality about you.”

“A quality?”

“Yeah,”

“A _gay_ quality?”

Zayn shrugged and smiled at him, “Man, I don’t know. But it’s good, whatever it is, Lou.  It’s good.”

And Louis had been surprised to feel so touched by that. And Zayn had seen it on his face.

“Aw, man,” he said, shoving Louis on the shoulder, “I love you, too.”  And they’d sat there for a while in agreeable friendship silence until Zayn had finally said, “C’mon, let’s go down to the pub and you can buy me a drink and try to get me laid, you sappy homosexual.”   

“Oh, finally admitting you need help?” Louis had hooted.

“Hey,” Zayn said, gesturing to his face and laughing, “This can be quite overwhelming for a lady, ok?” Louis knew he was kidding, but he also knew that it was sort of true.

But Zayn had been recovering from the flu all weekend. So that’s why Louis had wallowed all alone.  Well, it was also because he’d been avoiding Liam, who had cornered him on Friday afternoon after Econ and demanded to know if he’d taken any action in terms of finding them a new guitarist so they could play Battle of the Bands.  He kept texting Louis about it all weekend and Louis kept ignoring him.  He felt guilty about ignoring him too, which was only serving to make him more annoyed with Liam and in turn to ignore him further. Louis loved Liam, they had been friends since they were kids, but Liam sometimes had this air about him that somehow made you feel guilty, like you forgot to do your homework, which essentially was what Louis had done. 

Finally, on Sunday evening he’d gotten it together enough to make a flyer advertising the fact that they were indeed looking for a guitarist.  He printed 6 out and posted some in the various student lounges around the school and one in the music room.  And now he was hanging one up at the petrol station where Zayn worked, keeping him company because they were both bored.

“What does it say?” Zayn asked.  He was systematically going through the little spinny rack of sunglasses on the counter by the cash register and trying on every pair.  Even the ones intended for women, peering at his face in the little sliver of mirror on the top of the rack. Zayn keep showing the best results to Louis for approval, which he gave or withheld through his facial reactions.

“Why don’t you just read it?” Louis replied, gesturing toward it on the door.

“I’m clearly in the middle of something important right now,” Zayn said, pointing to the giant sunglasses currently perch on the bridge of his nose.  They were definitely lady ones, and they definitely looked good.

“Well, I have to go to the toilet, so you’ll just have to wait.” Louis turned and headed down one of the snack aisles to the bathroom at the back of the shop.  It was pretty nice, as petrol station bathrooms go.

This was the text of the flyer:

 

WE ARE

LOOKING FOR A GUITARIST

WHO CAN (possibly, passably)  SING!!!

**IS THAT YOU???**

New band forming, no name yet! Don’t worry, we are VERY TALENTED. 

Goal: Win This Year’s Battle of the Bands at Oswald Academy

Awesome, right??

Please contact Liam Payne if you are interested. 

Contact Info:

Email – [Realliampayne@gmail.com](mailto:Realliampayne@gmail.com)

Mobile – 576-124-3627

Take one of the handy little paper strips below to help you remember!!!

HAVE A GOOD DAY!!!

 

And then Louis had written Liam’s contact info over and over again at the bottom of the page at a 90-degree angle to the rest of the text and cut between it, so it was on little strips that people could take.  You know, like how people do on flyers. 

Anyway, Liam hadn’t been overly pleased that morning that Louis had only included his contact information, but Louis had said, “Ok, so how did it become solely my responsibility to find us a new guitarist?”

“I guess that’s kiiiiind of a good point,” Liam had said slowly and carefully, his chocolate button eyes getting a little wide.  He looked like he really didn’t want to get into it all the way.  And Louis knew what he was thinking then, that he, Louis, hadn’t really seemed overly committed to making a new band that year at all, and that he’d pretty much been shutting Liam down every time he tried to talk about it, and that Liam could join Patty Bishop’s band any time he wanted, he had an open invitation.

Louis sighed, “Ok, fine.  I know what you’re thinking.  I’m ready to do this, ok?” They’d been walking to class together and it was time to go their separate ways, “I’m really ready!” He said again.  And then he called out over his shoulder, “Liam – Wendy, Ok??” 

“What?” Liam said, clearly confused.

“Wendy! Let’s call the band Wendy.” He shouted back.

“You are _so_ weird, Tomlinson.”

“But you like, it right?” Louis had stopped in the middle of the hall and people were flowing around him, “Right??”

Liam just rolled his eyes and shrugged, and then he disappeared through the swinging door to the math department.

“He likes it” Louis said to himself, as he looked in the mirror of the petrol station bathroom.  He adjusted his fringe. Maybe he ought to get a Mohawk.

Louis could hear that Zayn was talking to someone back out in the shop.  Probably flirting with some middle-aged lady about which sunglasses looked best. 

When Louis walked back out of the bathroom, he almost crashed right into the Doritos display when he realized it was not a middle-aged woman talking to Zayn at all.  Nope.  Zayn was chatting and laughing like old friends with one Harry Styles.

_Shouldn’t he be at footy practice right now?_ Was the first thought that entered Louis’s mind.  He felt almost ambushed by Harry showing up at the petrol station like this. Almost bizarrely and irrationally angry. Then he heard a roll of thunder, and the question about footy practice was answered.  Of course, Louis didn’t have his umbrella, either. _Great._

Zayn hadn’t noticed Louis coming out of the bathroom yet.  So he hung back by the crisps, pretending to be considering what to pick, while actually cataloguing everything about Harry’s appearance.

He was as tall as Louis remembered, probably taller really.  Harry’s legs, now clad in dark skinny jeans, definitely seemed even longer than before. _Don’t even look at his hips, don’t even,_ Louis thought, skimming his eyes over them as he contemplated Harry’s torso.  How did he manage to have such a long torso, too? It didn’t seem fair.  Harry was wearing a fairly slim cut gray hoodie, zipped all the way up to his throat. _Fuck._   Louis could see smattering of darker splotches on the fabric across his impossibly broad shoulders, where he’d gotten caught in the beginning of the rain.  A navy blue beanie had been shoved on over his curls, which were escaping from under it in what had to be the most aesthetically pleasing way possible.

“I know there was a change of ownership,” Louis could hear Harry saying, his voice as wonderfully deep as he’d remembered, “but I don’t know why they had to go and switch the name.  I mean, we’re always going to call it the Tank and Tummy, right?  I know I am.”

And Zayn laughed and raised his fist for Harry to bump, bonding as they were about the fact that the petrol station was now called “Schwetz Roadside Convenience” instead of  the infinitely superior “Tank and Tummy”.   It was as Harry’s fist met Zayn’s that Louis’s heart almost stopped in his chest. Clutched between Harry’s fingers was a strip of white paper from the bottom of Louis’s flyer. 

_Maybe Harry Styles_ does _sing_ , Louis thought, right before the headiness he felt as a result of seeing the bit of paper crumbled in Harry’s had overtaken him, and he teetered slightly, knocking his shoulder into the Cooler Ranch Doritos display for real now, and sending about 15 mini bags cascading to the ground.

He felt Harry and Zayn’s eyes on him as they swiveled around to see what had happened.  He dropped to his knees and began picking them up immediately.

“Oh wonderful, Tommo.  Good work.  Just go ahead and trash the place during my shift, please.”

Normally, Louis would have quickly flipped Zayn off in response, but he somehow felt like he was moving through syrup, feeling Harry’s eyes on him.

And then Harry was crouching next to him, helping him pick up the packets of crisps.  And Louis really hoped Harry couldn’t see how quickly his heart was beating.  He felt like his whole body was vibrating with it.

Zayn laughed, “Oh man, you are way too nice, Styles, Louis doesn’t need any help.”

“It’s the least I can do.” Harry said back.  Louis could feel the wonderful rumble of Harry’s voice in his own chest.  He tried not to read too much into it that Harry remembered who he was so quickly, obviously that wasn’t working.  _Do not inhale deeply in order to smell him._ He commanded himself.

“What?” Zayn said, clearly confused.

“I- uh- I kicked a football over the fence the other day.”  Harry began, grabbing 3 or 4 stray Doritos packets out from under the Reese’s display.  His voice trailed off as he stretched his arm out to get a particularly recalcitrant bag, biting his lip as he extended his fingers as far as they’d reach. 

_Fuck._ Louis thought again.  And then, after a mental deep breath, he somehow managed to locate his personality again.

“Yes, he kicked a football over the fence and I assisted with the retrieval of the ball,” Louis said, depositing the last of the crisps back on the stand, save the one Harry was still struggling to reach, and the 3 others he was holding in his, quite frankly, massive left hand. “I was taking _the short cut_ , Zayn, because you were ill.”  He smiled as he emphasized “the short cut”, knowing it would irritate his friend. 

“Got it!” Harry said triumphantly.  Harry stood back up, all gangling limbs, like some kind of gorgeous baby giraffe, and handed all the crisps to Louis, looking quite proud of himself. 

As Louis took them, Harry’s knuckles grazed his palm, and Louis’s breath caught slightly in his throat.  Their eyes met.  If Louis had felt like he’d been moving through syrup before, this was an entirely different story.  Harry was smiling at him, his long green eyes practically sparkling, and Louis felt concussed by it. 

“Louis!  Are you going to put the Doritos back or what, man?” Zayn’s sharp voice jolted him out of his reverie.  He rolled his eyes at Zayn and shoved them back onto the display. 

“Oh hey! Tommo, Harry here took one of your stupid little flyer slips while you were in the shitter” Zayn said, as the two other boys drifted back over to the counter.  “Wait, do you lads know each other?” He asked, “I mean, besides your little football incident?  Louis, Harry.  Harry, Louis.” 

Louis just nodded at Harry, not wanting to risk eye, or heaven forbid, direct skin contact again in front of Zayn.

“That’s your flyer?” Harry asked, his voice a little higher than before.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.  Mine and Liam’s.” Louis said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “You play guitar?”

“Oh, no no.  I just sing.” Harry said, then he winced. “I mean, I just try to sing. But Niall.  My mate Niall.” He turned to Zayn, “You know, Niall, Irish, lives down the street by me, perpetually coming here for roller dogs?”

Zayn snorted and laughed, “Oh yeah, Horan!  Yeah, that kid is a riot.  I swear to god, he’d eat nacho cheese right out of the dispenser if I let him.”

“He probably already has. Ok, really I _know_ that he already has,” Harry said, laughing, then he turned back to Louis, “anyway, Niall plays guitar.  Really pretty well. And he can sing.  I was gonna pass this along to him.  I know he wants to do Battle of the Bands, for sure.”

Louis wasn’t prepared for the sick feeling of disappointment that sank into his body upon finding out that Harry wouldn’t be looking to join Wendy.  Or you know, whatever Liam eventually allowed him to call the band.  And for some reason, he couldn’t hide it, “What do you mean you _try_ to sing?” he demanded, surprising himself and both Harry and Zayn, if their raised eyebrows were anything to go by.

But Harry responded pretty quickly, despite Louis’s strange rudeness, “Well, Niall and I do songs together, yeah?” Louis already felt irrationally jealous of that, after knowing about it for about 2 nanoseconds, “And I do most of the singing, except Niall backs me up during the choruses.” Harry smiled a bit at that point and Louis knew he was thinking back to a private joke, which spurred even more jealousy. “But I get stage fright.” Harry finished, “So.”

“Weren’t you in choir for like fucking ever, Hazza?” Zayn asked.  _Get a fucking grip, you psycho!_ Louis thought, feeling ridiculously affronted that Zayn knew Harry well enough to be using a nickname.

Harry laughed nervously, “Yeah, it’s different though.  Being up there by yourself.  Or, I mean, I imagine it would be.”  He looked down at his watch. “Shit, I gotta go.  But uh, I’ll give this to Niall, I’ll probably see him later,” He said as he backed clumsily out of the door, blushing again as he made eye contact with Louis.

“Bye, man” Zayn said, waving.

“Yeah, bye.” Louis said weakly, feeling absolutely drained from the encounter. 

It took him a couple of seconds to realize Zayn was staring.

“What?” He asked, trying not to smile.

“Oh. You know what.” Zayn said shaking his head, a rueful smile on his face.

“Shut up!” Louis squeaked out. He stifled a laugh, but he couldn’t suppress his grin any longer. So much for coming up with an angle for bringing up Harry with Zayn.

“So do you know if he’s…” Louis started.

“No idea, man.” Zayn said, shaking his head.  He took a deep breath and then said, “You better be careful, Tommo.” And Louis looked up at him, and there was that soft, concerned face he’d been hoping to avoid.

Louis let out a broken sigh, “yeah.” He said, “yeah, I will be.” And then he suddenly had this odd sense the he was close to tears.  Like one more soft comment from Zayn would send him over the edge. _Holy Fuck. This kid is causing me to lose my mind!_

But then Zayn said, “ok, get the hell out of here, Pauline checks up on me after six and if you’re hanging around again, I’ll never hear the end of it.”


	6. Chapter 6

Harry burst through the side door to the Horan’s house without bothering to knock and hustled up the half flight of stairs that lead to the kitchen.  He felt frantic because of his interaction with Louis at the Tank and Tummy and was desperate to tell Niall everything about it as soon as possible. This being Niall, the kitchen seemed like a good place to look. Harry found his friend standing in front of the fridge, murmuring sweet nothings to the milk he was drinking directly from the bottle.  At that point, Harry realized he was so keyed up he couldn’t organize any of his thoughts well enough to start talking, so he started to pace instead.

“Oh, Hey Haz!” Niall said, conversationally. He put the milk back in the refrigerator and continued whispering to himself about it under his breath, “it’s just really good when it’s so cold like that, milk.” Niall didn’t seem to notice at first how wild-eyed Harry was, or that he was stalking around the kitchen like a maniac. But Harry continued to pace, taking big enough strides that he was covering the length of the rather long kitchen in two or three steps, he started making frustrated huffing noises as he went, and Niall began to regard him with an increasingly bemused expression on his face. 

“Ummm, what is going on?” he asked slowly.

Harry kept pacing. Niall waited.  He crossed his arms.

“Are you going to respond physically or verbally in some capacity at some point, Styles? ‘Cause you’re kinda freaking me out, here.”

Harry did two more passes of pacing and then stopped and turned to face Niall, running a frustrated hand through his hair. 

“I just.” Harry said.  The slip of paper from the bottom of Louis’s flyer was still balled up in his right fist.  He pushed it into Niall’s hand. “I just have so many thoughts.”

Niall looked down at the crumbled bit of paper, “What’s this?” He asked, and then, with a look of mild distaste, “Other than sweaty, I mean.” 

“It’s so you can play Battle of the Bands.” Harry explained finally, not really explaining at all.

“What?  Realliampayne@gmail.com?” Niall read the email address on the strip out loud, looking at Harry quizzically, “Ok, wait, are you trying to shunt me off on someone else here, Hazza?” there was a little bit of a laugh in his voice.

“No!” Harry said, “Well, yes…but not in a bad way, Ni.  I can explain.”

“Okay...” Niall said, motioning with his hand that Harry should get on with it, then.

 “I just ran into Louis Tomlinson at the Tank and Tummy and helped him pick up a bunch of crisps that he knocked on the floor.” Harry burst out, wringing his hands.  

Niall hooted with laughter at that, and lifted himself up to sit on the counter. “Ok, wait. What?? Haz.” Niall put a hand over his eyes and laughed more, “Could you start from the beginning please.”

Harry nodded, but found he still didn’t know where to begin, he opened his mouth and shut it about three times in a row.

Niall raised his eyebrows, still laughing a little “I’m very happy you had this romantic time at the petrol station with crisp packets or whatever, but what does that have to do with _this_?” he said, holding up the small paper strip.  Harry grabbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head, he was at a complete loss for words.

“Alright,” Niall said, jumping down from the counter and putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “let’s go downstairs and get set up to practice and you can take four or five deep breaths and then we’ll try again, ok?”

Harry nodded again, and shuffled down the stairs to the basement behind Niall. Once they’d gotten down there and Niall started tuning his guitar a little and Harry flopped onto one of the various broken down couches and stretched his body out, his mind stopped racing quite so much.  And after Niall threw him a stress ball shaped like the planet earth and prompted him with an “Explain your emotional distress, young Master Styles.”  He was finally able to explain to Niall everything that had happened.  Including the football incident.  And how Louis remembered him, and that that was crazy enough to deal with.  But then! How he thought he was actually going to pass right out when it had turned out that the flyer was for Louis’s band! _Louis’s_ band!

Harry kept tossing the stress ball up in the air as he recounted everything to Niall, “So, basically, yeah, I wanted you to call or whatever ‘cause it said they need a guitarist who can sing, which is perfect!  That’s you! And you know, I keep feel guilty about Battle of the Bands. But now…” Harry’s voice trailed off and he caught the stress ball and started squeezing it. 

Niall snorted out a laugh.  “Now you don’t want me to leave you behind to die of jealousy while I make sweet beautiful music with Louis Tomlinson?”

Harry was so relieved to have Niall as his best friend, “No. Ugh. Ok, Yes, Niall. I’m miserable. I’m so selfish.” He said, clapping a hand over his eyes and moaned. “But you should anyway, you should call.”

“Nah.  Styles & Horan for Life” Niall said.

“No, you should, you should.  I don’t want to hold you back.” Harry said, sitting up so he could get a look at Niall.

“You know,” Niall said slowly, “We could try to work it out so we could join their band together.”

“No! oh god, Niall. No!  I’m still so pathetic.  Just thinking about performing, I get so clammy. See?” He raised his palms for Niall’s inspection. He hoped Niall couldn’t tell that he was flushing a little because he’d definitely be entertaining exactly that kind of fantasy for most of the way home.  Before he’d realized in a flash of terror that he’d not only have to sing in front of an audience, but Louis himself, in close quarters and he’d immediately been overcome by a strange sort of nausea.

“Ok. Ok.  But you’re not pathetic, enough of that, please.” Niall said, playing a chord, “I mean, you wish you’d be able to do it, right? You want to be able to sing in from of people, you just don’t feel you can?”

“Yes, I do want too.  I just can’t.” Harry said in a whine, groaning again, “Nialler why are you so good at psycho-analyzing me?”

Niall snorted again, “’Cause I’m your best mate, you idiot.”

“Well, I do appreciate you listening.” Harry said, sincerely.

“Absolutely no problem whatsoever, Hazza.” Niall said, fondly. “Shall we play?”

Harry nodded, “But you’re gonna call, right?”

Niall got a funny little smile, “We’ll see.” He said.

And then they started out with a slower song that they’d written together, about Niall being homesick for Ireland. A song that Harry especially loved.  He tried not to think about Louis while he sang, but it didn’t work.  Harry was homesick for Louis Tomlinson’s eyelashes and perhaps he always would be.


	7. Chapter 7

Three days later, skateboarding over to Niall Horan’s to see if he’d be right for their band, Louis was feeling a little put out and a lot on edge. 

“He’s auditioning, shouldn’t he be coming to us?” Louis had asked Liam earlier that day.

“Do you know how many people have contacted me about being our guitarist, Tommo?” Liam had said, slightly aggravated amusement on his face.

“No.” Louis said simply, trying to pretend to himself that he didn’t feel a strange jumpiness, just thinking about Niall Horan being Harry Styles’s friend.

“One.” Liam said, with a “duh” in his voice.

“Ok, whatever.” Louis rolled his eyes “What time?”

“7:00.” Liam said, “Horan has football practice first.”

Louis started walking toward the music department.

“So I’ll see you there?” Liam pressed.

“Unh.” Louis said, noncommittally. Then he’d felt guilty, he shouldn’t be taking his weird mood out on Liam, it was just so easy to do, “Yes, I mean. Yes. Text me his address please.  I will do this for Wendy, Liam.”

Liam had laughed and shook his head.

“It’s growing on you, isn’t it?” Louis had said, slightly smugly and slightly cheered up, “Wendy is growing on you!”

But Louis hadn’t really been able to shake his mood the rest of the day, and he was skating over to Niall’s now, trying to ignore the existence of his emotions and feeling increasingly uneasy the closer he got to his destination.

Zayn had forced Louis to take a cigarette break with him between Econ and History that afternoon, a tentative look on his face as he led Louis outside.

“Soooo, I’ve got some good news, some bad news, and some news I’m not sure if you’ll care about either way. What order do you want it in?” He’d asked, looking at Louis up from under his quiff. He was tugging on his earring, which was always a tell he was nervous.

“Bad news first.” Louis said immediately.

Zayn looked uncomfortable, then he laughed awkwardly and shifted a little, preparing to speak.

“What is this about?” Louis asked, trying to keep his tone light. “You’re making me nervous, you weirdie.” He’d felt oddly sweaty right away.

“Uhh ok, I shouldn’t have asked you what order you wanted it in.  I’m just going to tell you all at once, like I want.” Zayn said finally, ignoring Louis’s question. Louis rolled his eyes.

And then Zayn proceeded to tell him that Mr. Michaelson, the head of the Key Club, which put on Battle of the Bands to raise money every year, had informed Zayn, who’d acted as emcee the past 2 years running and would again this year, that they were pushing the event back to December.  And that bands would be expected to sing two covers, like usual, but also they were required to sing one original song this year, for the first time ever. And also, that Aiden Grimshaw would be coming back to be the Alumni member of the judging panel that year. He said the last part in a nervous and mumbley rush, so Louis wasn’t sure if he’d heard him right, at first.  But then it all sank in.

“Which part’s the bad news?” He’d asked sarcastically, feeling an infuriating ache unfurling in his chest.

“You’re better off, mate.” Zayn said, exhaling smoke and squinting at the horizon.

“It’s fine.” Louis snapped.

Zayn gave him a skeptical look out of the corner of his eye and flicked some ash off his cigarette.  Louis ignored it.

“Alumni judge?  He went here for like 4 total seconds.” Louis scoffed, “Like, Really??” the last part came out as an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak.

 “No fucking kidding.” Zayn said, rolling his eyes. Then he shrugged, “well, I mean, he really could –“

Louis cut him off, “yeah, whatever, he could sing.” Zayn just nodded at that, stubbing out his cigarette on the brick wall behind them. 

“I’m ok, you know.” Louis said, softer.

Zayn raised his eyebrow and cocked his head to the side.

“Ok, fine, it’s better. It’s getting better.”

“Good.” Zayn said, seeming to accept that.

And then it had been time for History.

Last year, just like this year, Louis and Liam had been forced to secure a new guitarist in order to play at Battle of the Bands. Their band, Pig Fat, had placed second the past two years, and they were really feeling like this was finally it, they were going to win!  But then, a mere three weeks before the competition, Devon Aussler-Shaw, lead guitarist and gigantic klutz, had broken his left hand falling off his bed while trying to reach his computer’s power cord on the floor.  They had been devastated, Devon extremely so, since he was graduating that spring.

The next day, Louis had trudged downtown to Jim Laab’s Music because he needed a new bass drum beater.  It felt like pressing on a bruise, going shopping for anything at all band related, but that was probably why he’d done it.  He’d continued his trudging even after he entered the store, slouching right past Nick Grimshaw, who worked at the shop part time while at Uni, and over to the drum section without saying a word.  He could practically feel Nick’s raised eyebrows following him as he moved. 

Nick had continued to regard Louis with an unimpressed expression on his face as Louis plunked the beater down on the counter with a somewhat dramatic sigh, and not so much as a hint of a smile on his face.

“What’s up with you? You depressive little wanker.” Nick finally asked as he scanned the barcode.

“Sorry, man.” Louis groaned, and rubbed his face. “Devon broke his fucking hand yesterday.”

Nick gasped.  It made Louis’s lips quirk up a bit in spite of himself, he and Nick had a very similar gasp.  And Nick was properly outraged, which was gratifying.

“I know.” Louis said, “It’s the fucking worst.  So now we can’t even do - “

“Battle!” Nick finished for him, in dismay. “That’s terrible!”

Louis nodded, handing Nick his debit card. Nick tapped a pen on the counter with a thoughtful look on his face as they waited for the payment to go through.

“You know what.” He said, and he hopped off his stool and stood on his tiptoes to peer around the store.  He looked down at Louis, “We’ve got a new kid working here, just transferred to Oz, I’m pretty sure he plays guitar.” And then he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Aiden! Heeeeeey! Aiden!”

There was no response.

Nick walked out from behind the counter and out toward the piano showroom a little ways. “Oi, Grimshaw!” He called out.  He looked back at Louis with a smirk on his face, “No relation.” He said.

Finally there was a rustling noise from the other side of the shop, where the guitars and string instruments were displayed, and then a tall, good-looking boy in a plaid flannel shirt had appeared before them, his quiff flopping in his eyes.

“Yeah?” Aiden asked.

“You’re at Oswald, right?” Nick asked.

“uhuh” Aiden said, flipping his hair back off his face.

“Can you actually play the guitar or were you, like, exaggerating your abilities to sound cool?”

Aiden laughed, “I can play.”

“Excellent. Ok, Aiden, this beautiful little punk is Louis Tomlinson,” Nick said, gesturing to where Louis stood behind him. “Would you like to be in his band?”

And then Aiden had looked at Louis. He gave him the once over, head to toe.  And then he got a little smirk on his face and raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, I think that could work.”  And Louis knew, right away, he was in trouble. 

Aiden had grown up in London, but was finishing sixth form in at Oswald because his parents had recently been divorced and his mother wanted to move back closer to her family.  He was the same age as Louis, Louis having done an extra year of nursery school because he’d been such a peanut sized child, but it felt like Aiden was older. It never stopped feeling that way.        

Louis’d been telling the truth when he’d said it was getting better, it was, he was getting over Aiden, it had just taken awhile.  It wasn’t as if they’d ever officially been together, really.  They’d never “dated”.  And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t known it wasn’t good for him the entire time it was going on, he’d been highly aware.  He knew things weren’t balanced, that Aiden was stringing him along, and the awareness just made everything worse.  Because Louis just couldn’t resist him, Aiden, he couldn’t. Louis would make all these resolutions against sleeping with him again in his mind, imagine himself coolly ignoring any renewed advances, playing out conversations where he’d just shut Aiden completely down and walk away.  But then Aiden would show up at some open mic that Liam was singing at or he’d suddenly be sitting on the back of a bench at the skate park with a six pack of beer at his feet, and Louis would know that he’d been hoping that it would happen all along. And then Aiden would do something like sidle up to him and purr something ridiculous in his ear. “Your arse is a liferuiner, Tomlinson.” He’d say, a wicked smile on his face, his voice low, perfectly calibrated to vibrate right now Louis’s spine.  And Louis’d want to punch him in the face, because _Aiden_ was the liferuiner, but of course he’d want to fuck him more. It was exhausting.

It’d gone on like that for the better part of a year.  From October, when they’d gotten second at of the Battle of the Bands, yet again (in part because, even though they’d only had two weeks to practice together, it turned out Aiden could more than play the guitar, he could also sing quite wonderfully and his voice complimented Liam’s so nicely) until June, when Aiden moved back to London without texting Louis about it until after he was already gone. Louis had known Aiden was moving back there at some point. He’d known all along that Aiden wasn’t attached like he was, that it wasn’t the same for him, that it didn’t mean the same thing. He’d known that he should be protecting himself from falling for Aiden, and he’d tried.  But it hadn’t worked. Aiden leaving, the entire thing, it had broken his heart all the same. And it made him feel like a complete idiot and he hated that.

Louis walked up the stone path way to Niall Horan’s front door now, clutching his skateboard to his chest as he went. It was late September, Battle was three months away, _you’ll be able to handle seeing him again in three months. You will._ He told himself.  He shook his head as he gave the door a quick couple of knocks.  _My fucking life._

A pleasant looking man in forties with faded blonde hair opened the door just as Louis was about to try to knock again. He gives Louis a quizzical look. 

“Hi.” Louis said, still clutching his board to his chest, “I’m uh, I’m here to see Niall Horan about – about a band.”

“Oh right. Right.” The man said in a soft voice, he gave a little smile. Louis found his lilting accent pleasing, “They’re down in the basement, lad.  The stairs are through the kitchen.” He gestured behind him. “You can just set that by the door, if you like.” 

_Liam must already be here,_ Louis thought.  He leaned his skateboard carefully against the wall by the front door and followed whom he could only assume to be Mr. Horan through the living room and into the kitchen.  Louis could hear the faint sound of music coming up the stairs. 

“It’s pretty well insulated.”

Louis looked back over his shoulder from the top of the steps.

Mr. Horan smiled, “the basement, they’re playing louder than you’d think.”

Louis smiled back and nodded, starting off down the stairs on balls of his feet. He got about three steps down before he could tell that they were playing Use Somebody, by Kings of Leon. That seemed odd at first, because as far as he knew, Liam had never sung that song before.  He got about three steps further down and didn’t it seem odd anymore at all, because whoever it was that was singing was definitely not Liam Payne.  Liam had a pretty good voice, but Louis thought this one was probably better.  Ok, definitely better. There was a slight edge of hoarseness to it, but it was from palpable emotion and the tone was deep and rocky. And the control! Each note was hit and held perfectly. Louis shivered from it, completely absorbed.  As he turned into the large, shabbily refinished space that made up the Horan’s basement, the thought struck him, “I just try to sing, really” He heard Harry Styles say in his head.  And then there he was, right in front of Louis - Harry Styles, trying to sing. 

Louis would have laughed at the absurdity of it all if he hadn’t been so fucking mesmerized, so maddeningly turned on.  It almost felt like he’d been slapped in the face, he was so stunned by the full body experience of watching Harry sing. It absolutely took his breath away. Harry’s eyes were closed and his head was bowed over the microphone, his right hand curled loosely around it.  He raised his left forearm in front of him, his long fingers splaying out as he sang, “someone like youuuu.” Louis felt goose bumps raise on his arms and multiplying chills zip up his spine.   He couldn’t look away.  He was rooted to the spot.  How had this ridiculous human being suddenly come into his life?

They were nearing the end of the song now. Harry took a deep breath, “I’ve been roaming around always lookin down at all I seeee.” He finished.  Louis felt his skin tingle at the pureness of the sound, at the way it hung in the air before dissipating.  Harry seemed to take a century to unbow his head, but then he did, and suddenly he was staring directly at Louis, his mouth slightly agape, his eyes wide wide wide. There was a blush creeping across his face, his chest still heaving from the exertion of the singing the song.  Louis maybe should have attempted to hide the fact that he was also breathing rather heavily, but he didn’t have the mental capacity at the moment.  He eyes kept running back and forth across Harry’s face, he didn’t know what he was looking for there, but he knew he felt absolutely electrified. He was practically aching.

“Holy Fuck.” Louis finally choked out after several beats, his breathing returning to a somewhat reasonable rate, his pulse still racing.  He threw his head back and gave a sarcastic laugh, “Holy fuck. _Trying_ to sing? _Trying_ to sing??”

Harry’s eyes seemed to get impossibly wider at that. He looked almost dazed. _So green_. Louis thought.

“You’ve got to be shitting me, Styles.” Louis said, shaking his head and laughing again, this time incredulously. “You’re singing with Wendy at Battle of the Bands. You are.  I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Harry swallowed, still silent, blinking at Louis like he was shell-shocked. Louis looked past him to the diminutive blonde kid with the guitar, the exquisite torture of maintaining eye contact with Harry finally becoming too much.

“Niall Horan.” The kid said, with a little wave, he kept glancing over at Harry and grinning. 

“Louis Tomlinson.” Louis said, “You’re pretty good too, mate.  You up for it?”

“Fuck, Yeah!” Niall said.  And they did a perfectly executed fist bump on the first try.  Always a good sign.  “You alright there, Hazza?” Niall asked, looking amused.

“Wha?” Harry said, finally seeming to come to. “Yeah”, he looked a little pale. “Yeah.”

“So Wendy, is that the Band name, then?” Niall asked, strumming a little.

Louis nodded, and then said conspiratorially, “I’m not sure Liam’s entirely on board, so we’ve got to stick together and convince him.”

“Wendy is sick, mate.” Niall said, happily “No need to convince me.”

“Oh, so you’ve already decided without me?” Louis heard Liam’s voice from behind him, “how unusual.” He said, but he sounded pleased.  He was holding his bass guitar case, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Louis laughed and put his arm around Liam’s shoulders, introducing him to Niall and Harry, who still looked overwhelmed. 

“So you sing too, yeah?” Liam asked, turning to Harry.  Harry turned slightly pink.

“He’s _insane_.” Louis said, mentally biting his lip as the blush on Harry’s face bloomed scarlet. He turned to Liam, “I was thinking we could just sort of work it out like we did last year?” His stomach gave a little flip. It was weird thinking about Aiden and Harry at the same time.

“Whatever’s good for Wendy’s good for me.” Liam said with a shrug.  Louis really did love Liam.

“So, seeing how you already invited them to join the band, shall we?” Liam said, moving his bass around a little.

“Yes, we shall!” Louis said.

“But don’t you play-“ Harry started. He cut himself off quickly, the pretty pink tinge creeping back across his cheeks.  Everyone turned to look at him. “The drums?” he finished weakly, averting his eyes from Louis’s stare.  There were a variety of instruments in various states of repair strewn about the Horan’s basement, but no drum kit.

“Oh, yeah,” Louis said, smiling, “But I can play the piano, too.”

Harry gave a half nod of understanding.

“Well, I just _try_ to play the piano.” He said, laughing and looking right at Harry, “but _I_ really mean that.”

Harry’s face turned an even darker shade of red at that, but he bit his lip to keep from smiling.  Louis couldn’t seem to get enough of either of those things.

They began to play after that, stopping and starting while they got used to each other and figured out songs the could try that they all knew already.  Mostly they just clicked, the four of them.  It gave Louis heady feeling, like it wasn’t quite real.  He was in awe of how well Liam and Harry’s voices blended, it sounded like they’d be singing together for years. 

After about an hour Harry had to go home to do some sociology homework that he’d been avoiding. He shoved a beanie on over his curls and then smiled and ducked his head when he made eye contact with Louis as he said good-bye, and this time it was Louis who blushed, a thrill running through him. The other three only played another five minutes before deciding it wasn’t the same without Harry.

“This is going to be pretty great, I think.” Liam said, happily, as they headed up the stairs.

Niall walked them to the front door, “Yeah, I think so too.” He leaned in the doorway as Liam unlocked his bike from the maple in the yard. Louis messed around on his skateboard on the front pathway while he waited for Liam.  Niall turned to him, a funny half smile on his face, “I knew he wouldn’t be able to say no to you.  I knew it.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper.  He kicked at the doorjamb a little.

Louis’s head snapped up at that. He was frantic to catch Niall’s eye and ascertain just exactly what he meant by that statement, which had caused a giant grenade of hope to explode in his chest and his heart to pound, but by then Liam was already on his bicycle and halfway out in the road, “Hurry up, Lou!  You always lag behind on that thing to begin with!” and Louis had to run down the little pathway to catch up with his friend. 


	8. Chapter 8

Harry sent Niall a single text that night as he walked the half block back home, shaking his head and his arms because they were filled up with excess energy.

**You are unbelievable!!! unbelievable!**

Harry kept turning around and walking backward so he could see Niall’s house again for a couple of steps as he went, as if everything would make more sense if he was still just looking at the building that Louis Tomlinson was currently inside.

Niall responded an hour and a half later.  Harry was hunched over the desk in his bedroom, staring blankly at his textbook about social inequality when he got it.

**You’re welcome. :)**

Harry let out a half groan, half laugh and crossed the room to his bed, collapsing onto it with a soft thwump.  It seemed like it was about time to abandon hope of holding on to any anger he might have had at Niall for ambushing him like that. He knew he really didn’t have it in him to maintain it.

Even so, the stupidly triumphant look on Niall’s face after Louis had informed Harry, rather bossily, that he’d be in the band whether he liked it or not, flitted through his mind and he rolled his eyes.  _Wanker,_ he thought. But then of course, for about the fiftieth time since he’d left Niall’s, Harry got stuck thinking about Louis.  He got stuck thinking about how he’d finished singing and looked up and Louis had just been there, staring at him from the doorway to the basement, his thick fringe of lashes blinking slowly, pink lips slightly parted. It was almost two hours later and Harry could still feel the darkened blue of Louis’s eyes on him, drawing a blush as they moved back and forth across his face. The memory of it sent a renewed pulse of heat and adrenaline through his body, and he exhaled involuntarily. _fuck._ He groaned again and buried his head in his pillow.  _How is this my life?_ _How will I ever fall asleep?_ Somehow he managed.

The next day, Niall, who was typically five to ten minutes behind schedule when it came to being ready to leave for school, stood bright eyed on the sidewalk, waiting as Harry approached.  Niall readjusted his backpack straps nervously and repeatedly looked down at the oversized face of his watch. Harry smirked. This definitely meant that Niall had planned some kind of defense of his decision to ambush Harry with Louis the night before, and that he was itching to tell it to Harry so he could assuage his guilt.  The closer Harry got to his friend, the antsier Niall got. He was practically bouncing out of his shoes. It looked like he might go airborne any second.

“Harry!” Niall called out, when the distance between them had closed to about twenty-five feet, “Great morning, huh?  God, I love the sunshine.” Harry purposefully kept he expression neutral and made no response.

“Excited for footy?” Niall called out, his voice strained.  Harry still didn’t react.

Niall clasped his hands together in front of him, having the decency to look ever so slightly abashed, “Ok, ok, Haz, just let me explain, alright?” he said, “I mean, are you _seriously_ , actually mad about this?”

Harry closed the remaining distance between them, concentrating almost entirely on keeping his facial muscles slack, fighting against the smile that was threatening to reveal itself.  As soon as he reached Niall he gave him a quick but firm shove and the other boy went careening into the hedgerow with an undignified squawk. 

Harry let out a delighted hoot of laughter, very pleased with his handy work.

“Hazza!” Niall’s voice came from within the hedge, Harry could hear an edge of panic in it, “Harry!” he shouted again, struggling and flailing and failing to extricate himself from the shrub. “There is an incredibly territorial bird that lives in this thing!”

The abject terror in Niall’s voice only made Harry laugh harder, he threw his head back and spun around in complete amusement. 

“I’m serious, Haz!” He continued, his legs thrashing a little as the relatively slick undersides of his school uniform-regulated shoes tried to find purchase on the ground, “Oh, you laugh now, you- you dick, but just wait. Just wait. Christ, you’ve probably never even seen The Birds!”

At that point, Harry extended his hand and pulled Niall out of the bush, dusting his friend off and removing stray twigs and leaf bits from his person.

“Alright. Alright, sorry.” Harry said, grinning at Niall. “I guess we’re even now.”

Niall shunted from side to side on the cement, straightening out his clothes and backpack and surveying his body for hedge debris.  Once satisfied that things were in relatively good order, he yanked on Harry’s arm and led him off down the sidewalk, looking back over his shoulder at the hedge as they went.

“Even?” Niall said with a snort, as they continued down the street, “The way I look at it, I did you a gigantic favor and then you pushed me into a shrub for it, you prick!”

Harry laughed at that and raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Ok, fine,” Niall conceded. “We’re even.” he paused, “For now.” He said, with little smile.

“For now?” Harry asked, making a face, even though he was pretty sure he knew what Niall was implying.  He rolled his eyes at himself, internally.  _Fishing,_ he thought, _pathetic._ But Niall didn’t seem to notice, he obliged.

“Well, yeaahhh, if you and Tomlinson end up married with babies, then I should get to push you into a least like 10 or 20 plants.” Niall was still casting glances behind him, even as they neared the end of the block, “I am serious about that bird, Hazza!  She must have been out getting like, nest supplies or some shit, ‘cause she’s really mean.”

“You are ridiculous, Nialler,” Harry said affectionately, as he removed another twig from Niall’s hair.

“And you’ve obviously never been dive bombed by an angry mother bird,” Niall said, grumbling slightly and smacking at the button you hit to get a walk signal, “Band practice tonight, by the way.” He said, giving Harry a sidelong glance.

“Oh?” Harry felt this strange sense of relief fill his body, as if he’d been secretly thinking in some weird part of his brain that it was fake, that being in this band with Louis Tomlinson was fake.  But it wasn’t.

“Yeah, after footy, at your boyfriend’s house.”

“Ni!” Harry turned a little pink.

“Ok, ok, last one for today!” Niall said, chuckling as they finally crossed the street. “You still worried about singing in public?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

Harry gave a short nod.

Niall sighed, “I figured.”  He patted Harry on the shoulder, “We’ll figure it out.” And Harry shrugged and swallowed, feeling a curlicue of fear twist in his stomach. “We will.” Niall said, but then he let the subject drop. 

They spent the rest of the walk to school mainly quiet, occasionally talking about their football match the following Tuesday.  Niall picked up a stick and started smacking low hanging tree branches and overgrown hedges with it.  Harry was mostly up in his head, trying to sort through a weird jumble of worry, heady excitement, and also the various romantic plot lines he’d been creating starring himself and Louis Tomlinson.  Really, he was worried about two things.  The first was that he’d never get to enact anything remotely close to the romantic narratives he was creating about Louis in his mind because he had _such_ a big crush on Louis that it felt like he was destined to suffer from Physical Attraction Related Personality Disappearance Disorder whenever they were together. (He and Niall had come up with the concept of PARPDD after Kiara Aussler-Shaw had rendered Niall practically a complete mute when they’d been paired up together for the bowling unit in PE the year before. “She uses a 12 pound ball, Haz!  I am in awe!”) How was he supposed to charm Louis Tomlinson if he could barely remember his own name in his presence?  His second worry, which made him feel a little ill, was the continued existence of his stage fright.  Not being in this band with Louis was clearly not an option for him, but he felt something close to dread when he thought about their future performances.  What if he let everybody down?  What if he let Louis down?

Niall peeled off to the East wing of the school as they arrived, eager to get a cinnamon roll from the coffee cart, leaving Harry to shamble over to his locker by himself.  And there was Louis Tomlinson, clutching his skateboard to his chest and absent-mindedly spinning one of the wheels as he waited for Harry.  Harry’s breath caught in his chest when he saw him, as usual. _Typical._ Harry thought, trying to regulate his breathing. Was it really his fault though? With Louis being the way he was and looking the way he did? Black hair artfully tousled, double diamond earrings, cheekbones, eyelashes, whole face beauty, trousers that fit like a dream, caramel skin, shirt sleeves rolled up revealing the delicate black tattoos on pale skin on the inside of his forearms, mischievous eyes. _Fucking hell._ Was it _really_ Harry’s fault? _Just breathe, you idiot._

“Morning, Styles,” Louis rasped, that smile on his face, the one that gave him the crinkles by his eyes.

Harry cleared his throat and swallowed. “Good Morning.” He said. The words tripped out a little slowly, but that wasn’t unusual for Harry. _You’re ok, you’re ok._

“How’d you know where my locker was?” He asked, voice still slow, he reached for the combination lock and his arm brushed against Louis’s shoulder, making Harry shiver just a bit.

“Oh is this your locker, then?” Louis asked, eyes twinkling “I was just randomly standing about! How lucky.”

Harry turned a little pink at that but felt himself laugh and say, “Right, very lucky.” Had he just used a slight amount of sarcasm while talking to Louis Tomlinson?  What was happening? Were his fears about PARPDD unfounded???

“No, Zayn told me where it was,” Louis said, “because Zayn – “

“Knows everybody.” They finished together.  Their eyes met and they both smiled and Harry felt a thrill shoot through his body that almost curled his toes.

“Anyway,” Louis said, sort of swinging his shoulders back and forth as Harry rifled through his locker, looking for his Econ notebook, “Just wanted to make sure Horan talked to you about practice. We’re going to need you to try to sing again, alright?”  He said, a teasing twinkle in his eye.

Harry nodded and bit his lip over a smile, tucking the notebook under his arm and shutting his locker.  They turned and started off down the hall together.  Harry wondered if Louis’s class was in the same direction or if he was just walking with him to walk with him.

“It’s at my house,” Louis continued, in his lovely voice, he tugged at an earring, “well, my garage really. Should I write down the address?”

And then Harry surprised himself and said, “text it to me.”  And Louis nodded and fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Harry to put his number in and Harry hoped the other boy couldn’t see that his hands were shaking more than a little as he entered it.

“That’ll be nice, practice at your house.”  Harry said laughing, “I mean, Niall’s basement is great but –“

“The fucking noise from the pipes!” Louis finished, “I mean, I was only there for and hour and half but Jesus Christ!”

Harry nodded, laughing more. The Horan’s house had an ancient heating system, complete with hissing radiators and clanging pipes, every time someone took a shower it caused a huge racket in the basement.  Louis made a comment then about how the slow rhythmic banging of the hot water in the pipes sounded like an imbecile who wouldn’t stop bouncing a basketball and it made Harry bark out a loud peel of laughter and then clap his hand over his mouth in mild embarrassment.  When he saw that Louis was ducking his head to hide a grin at his reaction, Harry felt this soft fuzz of happiness flood into his body.  _Fuck._

They reached Harry’s classroom much too quickly and stood awkwardly in the hallway for a beat, Harry waiting to go inside.

“Listen, Styles, I just wanted to let you know, about the stage fright.  I have a plan, ok?  I have a plan.”  And Harry looked up from where he’d been pretending to reorganize some handouts he’d stashed in his notebook, and Louis’s eyes were serious and sincere and so very blue and Harry couldn’t speak.  So he just nodded, wide eyed and gave a half wave as he turned into the classroom.  And Louis smiled and waved back. 

 ****

The next two weeks of Harry’s life were incredibly busy.  It was go to school, go to football, go to band practice, do homework, go to sleep, and repeat and he really really loved it.  Not only was being around Louis so much making him so happy sometimes his skin hurt, but being in Wendy (Liam still pretended to be on the fence about the name, but Harry could tell he’d actually started to love it) was really wonderful.  The four of them had just clicked, right away, as if they were meant to be friends even if they hadn’t been in a band. Things were so hilarious sometimes that Harry had to sit down on the ground in Louis garage as a result of being weak from laughter.  It was quite nice.

Also nice, a little too nice for Harry to feel comfortable thinking about all the way, was the seven point plan that Louis had come up with to help Harry successfully overcome his stage fright by December.  Their first practice at Louis’s house, he removed a folded up piece of paper from his back pocket and read off each of the points to the band:

 

  1. We’ll practice as much as possible so we know we are good and Harry has nothing to worry about.
  2. We’ll start letting Zayn watch some of our practices, after a little while.
  3. Then we’ll put on a concert for my mum and my sisters.
  4. Then we’ll go to an open mic night, but Harry won’t perform with us. That way he’ll feel left out and jealous and want to perform the next time we go.
  5. We’ll go to open mic again and Harry will sing one song with us.
  6. Then we’ll go to as many open mics as necessary until Harry feels comfortable.
  7. We’ll perform at Battle of the Bands and win.



 

Harry was of course still worried that it wouldn’t be that simple, but he had to admit that the plan had a sensible and appealing progression to it.  And the more they practiced together, the more determined Harry felt about overcoming his fear. They were working on a cover of Train In Vain that Harry felt really good about.  And he and Niall had started showing Liam and Louis some of the songs they’d written, since they had to perform an original at Battle.  It all felt so collaborative and creative, it made Harry feel almost dizzy and definitely very very happy.  The happiest he’d felt maybe his whole life.

The second Friday after their first practice at Louis’s house, Harry found himself alone with Louis in his garage.  Liam had gone to London for the weekend with his family, and Niall had left early complaining of some kind of indigestion, so it was just the two of them.  They sat at Louis’s ancient Casio keyboard, trying to work out a melody that Louis had started recently, but they kept getting distracted by each other and talking instead.  Harry felt so heady from the proximity it was almost like he was high.  The more he was around Louis the more he just liked him so much, as a person.

“Are Sambas really punk, Louis?” He asked amusedly, looking down under the keyboard to where his own white converse clad feet made Louis’s almost look like miniatures.

“Yes,” Louis said firmly a laugh in his voice, “Definitely, because _I_ am wearing them.”  And then he giggled.

“Is giggling punk, too?” Harry asked grinning at Louis. He was slightly flushed, he knew, it was always like that when he flirted with Louis, which was something he was getting more and more confident about doing.

“Harold, everything about me is completely hardcore.” Louis said, in his perfect rasp of voice, smiling back at him. “So yeah, my giggles are definitively punk rock.”

Harry looked down at their feet again, still grinning, he felt his blush intensify like it did every time Louis called him Harold.  God, he was so very aware of how their thighs were touching. 

Louis went back to playing for the time being and then Harry asked, genuinely curious, “What’s the difference between Goth and Punk, then?” He knew by now that people sometimes referred to Louis as Goth and that he didn’t consider himself to be, but he had no idea of what the demarcations for that kind of thing were.

Louis stopped playing and looked thoughtful, scooting around on the piano bench a bit. “Well,” he said, he shook his head, “It’s sort of complicated. I feel more connected to punk music, than to like, Goth subculture, I guess.” Harry furrowed his brow.

Louis laughed, “I guess that really didn’t answer your question?”

“Not really,” Harry said smiling, “How did you get into it in the first place?” He reached up tentatively and touched the jet-black earring Louis was wearing.  Louis shivered a little at touch and Harry realized his heart had started to race.

“I, uh, I got really into the Clash when I was about 13,” Louis said, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand, “I kind of like to think I’m straddling the line between punk and glam, I guess.” he said, gesturing with his other hand now, turning it over again and again, “I mean, I really loved T. Rex at that point too. Still do.”  He snorted,  “Marc Bolan was something of a sexual awakening, you could say.” And then he laughed again and said, “more like a confirmation, really.”

Harry was staring very fixedly at their feet now, even more hyperaware of every single point at which their bodies were touching.  It was like Louis had set Harry on fire from within, just by casually referencing his attraction to a man.

Louis started to laugh harder now.  Harry felt a flash of panic that he was laughing at him, at his obvious awkwardness.  But when he peered up through his lashes at Louis, it was clear he was recalling some thing from the past.

“What?” Harry asked, smiling.

“It’s just.” Louis said still laughing a little, “Ok, I always just leave out the part of the story about how I came to be interested in The Clash and T. Rex in the first place, but I feel like telling you, so I’m going to.”

Harry just smiled in response, feeling absurdly pleased.

“It was Billy Elliot.” Louis said, smiling right at Harry, smiling so openly and gorgeously at him it was making Harry ache.

“Billy Elliot?”

“mmhmm” Louis said with a nod, “Have you seen it?”

Harry nodded.

“Sometimes I’ll still play London Calling and my mum will be like ‘oh Louis, isn’t this the music from that movie with the boy who wants to take ballet??’” Louis said, nailing the impression of his mother and laughing delightedly, “I mean, leave it to ones mother to destroy any illusions you might have about being cool, right?”

Harry liked Louis so much in that moment it felt like his heart was too big for his body and it would never return to normal size. He couldn’t really talk; all he could do was smile this stupid smile that was hurting his face. And he couldn’t stop himself, he just needed to touch Louis, so he picked up Louis’s right arm with trembling fingers and traced the lines of the tattoo on the inside of his wrist with his fingers.  It was the simple out line of a swallow, starkly black against Louis’s skin, and Harry thought it was so lovely. He thought he might have heard Louis’s breath catch when he’d taken his arm, but looking up would risk eye contact and Harry felt pretty sure he’d actually die or maybe even cease to exist from that right now.

Finally, he said, “Just cos I like ballet, doesn’t mean I’m a poof.” doing his very best impression of Billy Elliot.

Louis let out a happy, breathy laugh at that and Harry took a deep breath and looked up at him, his heart absolutely pounding.

“I am, you know.” He said, fingers still stroking the inside of Louis’s wrist. His breath was coming very short, he had to get his out.

Louis was blinking rapidly and he didn’t appear to be breathing at all.

“I’m gay.” Harry clarified in a very soft whisper.  And it did feel like he was going to die because he wanted Louis so much.  He wanted to kiss him so much right then that it might really kill him.

Louis drew in a deep hitched breath and let it out in a slow and strangled sigh. “Hazza” he whispered even softer, and then grabbed the hand Harry was using to trace patterns on his wrist and yanked the other boy towards him slightly. Harry really thought he might pass out.

And then there was a clattering noise behind them as the door to the garage wrenched open.  They both jumped back from each other, startled by the intrusion, Harry springing to his feet.  

“It’s 7:45, Louis.” Lottie said pointedly from the doorway. Harry and Louis just stared at her, wide eyed and blinking.

Louis shut his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath.

“We get to play until 8:00 on Friday, Charlotte.” He moaned out. “eight o’clock on Friday nights!” He repeated in a shout.

“Holy god, Lou.” Lottie said, “It’s only fifteen minutes! Sorry! Geez.”

Harry thought about how they’d barely even been playing the piano, they’d barely been making any noise at all!  But he didn’t want to draw attention to what they might have been up to instead, so he just stood there.  And then he cleared his throat awkwardly, “uh, yeah, I should probably get going, anyway. We have a, uh, a footy match in the morning, so.”  He grabbed his denim jacket off the workbench behind him.

“I’ll uh, see you Monday, Lou?” He said, heading for the side door of the garage.

Louis nodded at him wordlessly.

“Let me know if you come up with, with an idea about the lyrics,” Harry said, scuffing his shoe on the ground.

“Yeah,” Louis said, voice soft, “Yeah, I will.”

Harry waved at Lottie then and left, flipping his hood up against the wind.  “You guys are so weird.” He heard her say as he walked down the driveway and he started to laugh.  _Holy fuck._ He thought, and then he started to run because his body was full of electricity and if he didn’t move he might lose his mind. 


	9. Chapter 9

Louis took an actual short cut through Iverson Park that Sunday, around four. He was going over to Harry’s to show him the lyrics he’d written and see what he thought.  He knew he could have just emailed them.  And maybe he’d have done that before Friday. But now he couldn’t stop thinking about seeing Harry again as soon as possible.  He _needed_ to see him again. He was being driven slightly mad by it.  He kept feeling phantom fingers on his wrist all day on Saturday, he kept picturing how Harry had looked at him, so vulnerable yet dark eyed.  He shook his head, he could just kill Lottie, just kill her!

It was overcast, one of those days were the sky is silver gray, completely clouds, and it somehow enhances the green of the leaves and the grass.  A few of the maples had a bit of red at the top, irritating Louis by ruining the color scheme and reminding him that summer was really over now, which he’d been trying to ignore. So it was cooler than he expected, chilly really, the breeze cutting through the fabric of his hoodie slightly.   He hunched up his shoulders against it and set off across the field at a fairly good clip, driven forward by his frantic longing for Harry.  The field hadn’t been mowed in much too long and the tall grass dampened Louis’s pants.

He was lost in thought, thinking about what he’d say when he got to Harry’s, if Harry was home, which he might not be.  Louis hadn’t texted first for some reason.  It was like he needed to take some kind of action, any kind of action! So he hadn’t wanted confirmation that Harry wasn’t home, because then he’d just have to stew in his room and think of Harry. Or go to the skate park and think of Harry. Or bang on the drums in the garage and think of Harry. So, showing up unannounced at Harry’s felt much more proactive, as ridiculous as it might have been.  _Probably he won’t be home. You’ll probably end up putting them in the mail slot._ He thought. _But then someone else might read them. Ok, don’t leave it at all. Or his parents might be there.  Yeah, his parents will be home but he won’t be. Or he’ll be there.  Maybe he’ll be there. Probably won’t. Should’ve just texted him, you idiot._ But even as lost in thought as he was, all it took was a flash of torso moving across the corner of his vision field, and Louis knew that it was definitely Harry running on the path by the river, about 100 yards away. 

Louis stood for a second, just watching Harry’s body in motion, cursing himself and wishing he could still his heart.  Harry was just so lanky, always. Infuriatingly so. Harry didn’t quite seem to have adjusted all the way to the new length of his limbs, as if his brain still thought his legs were about half a foot shorter than they really were, but when he ran it was surprisingly graceful. Louis would have watched it on a loop for a day and a half. _Get it together, weirdo._

“Harry!” He called out, waving his arms.

Harry kept running.

“Hazza!!” He called out again, running toward him, his arms above his head, laughing at himself as he went.

This time Harry heard him and pulled up short, looking back over his right shoulder.  He tugged his earbuds out and smiled when he saw Louis.  He smiled all the way.

Louis could have sworn to god his breath caught audibly in his throat as it happened.  This buzzing warmth immediately filled his body, blood zipping in his ears.  Louis briefly tried to avoid grinning back like a mad man, but he couldn’t prevent it, so he ducked his chin slightly and fussed with his fringe. 

“Hey!” Harry said, walking toward him, twirling the white cord of his earbuds around a finger as he came closer, “How are you?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

“Oh.  Uh, Good. How are you?” Louis asked, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

“Good.”  Harry said, still smiling and maintaining eye contact in a way that was making Louis feel like all of his skin was on fire.

“I was uh, actually just headed over to your…uh to your house.” Louis stammered, taking the folded up scratch paper with the lyrics on it out of the pocket of his hoodie and holding it in his right hand.  He began to hit his left hand with the paper in an agitated sort of rhythm.  He was incapable of suppressing the nervous energy in his body.

“Oh!” Harry said, sounding surprised, but pleased. Definitely pleased.

“yeah, I uh. I wrote some lyrics, for- for that tune we were working on.  And I thought, um probably you should have a look at them.” Louis said, he gestured to the paper in his hand, feeling an uncharacteristic surge of bashfulness.  There was a slight blush staining his cheeks now.  He hoped Harry attributed it to the cold. 

“Oh! Brilliant! Brilliant!” Harry said, reaching out for them in his enthusiastic Harry way. _Must everything about him be so adorable?_ Louis thought as he relinquished the lyrics quickly, his heart rate speeding up as Harry read.  A crease formed between Harry’s eyebrows as he did so.  Louis bit his lip. 

“These are really good, Lou.” Harry murmured.  He hummed a bit of their melody under his breath and kept reading.  “I really like what you did with the bridge.”

Louis could feel his pulse in his cheeks, he was blushing so much from flattered pleasure.  He gripped the back of his neck and scuffed his shoe on the ground and then balled up his fists in the too long sleeves of his sweatshirt. 

Harry started jumping back and forth from one foot to another as he continued to study the lyrics, the look of concentration still on his face, his lips moving ever so slightly as he reread. _He’s getting cold_ , Louis realized.  Harry was only wearing a threadbare cotton t-shirt and mesh shorts, the perfect running outfit for fifty degree weather. Not so much the perfect outfit for standing still in a park in fifty degree weather with your sweat evaporating. The skin on Harry’s arms was mottling from the cold and his elegant fingers looked bloodlessly white, Louis could see a distinct purplish cast under the nails.   

Before he knew what he was doing, he’d moved forward and taken Harry’s hands in his own, crumpling the paper that was still in Harry’s right fist. 

Harry took a startled intake of breath and he eyes flew up to meet Louis’s.

“You’re cold.” Louis said softly.  Harry’s eyes were wide, he give a single nod and swallowed.

Louis’s heart was pounding so hard, he wasn’t sure if he was even speaking loud enough to be heard, but he couldn’t seem to inhale any further than a shallow breath, everything seemed to be coming out as a raspy whisper.  “Sorry,” He said, giving a low laugh, “I didn’t think of that…I mean, I don’t even know how far you were running.”

“f-five miles.” Harry managed, his breath hitching slightly as Louis continued to rub his hands between his own. “I was almost- almost done.”

Louis looked back down at their entangled hands and found he couldn’t tear his eyes away.  He couldn’t get enough of seeing the contrast in their skin tones, his own hands, smaller and tanner, trembling slightly as they wrapped around Harry’s ivory ones.  And god, Harry’s fingers were gorgeous, so long and tapered, complimenting his lanky body frame in a way that was driving Louis crazy.  Somewhere in his mind, in the part that wasn’t becoming increasingly fogged by desire, he was laughing at himself for being so attracted to Harry he even wanted his skeleton. Here he was, already half hard because of his utter fascination with the perfect bones in Harry Styles’s wrists.

Louis’s breathing was still coming short and quick.  He could feel Harry’s eyes on him, could sense that they were flicking up from their entwined hands to Louis’s face and back down again.  Louis knew he would be a goner as soon as they made eye contact again, he was past the point of no return, so he forced himself to delay it just a bit longer, trying and failing to get some kind of mastery over how much he wanted it. How much he wanted to kiss Harry, to touch all of him. It felt like he wanted to devour him. It was pounding through him with every heartbeat, as though all he was anymore was a pulse of want for Harry.  His whole body ached. 

And then he couldn’t delay any further. He peered up at Harry under the fringe of his eyelashes.

“Louis.” Harry breathed out as their eyes met.  Harry’s seemed liquid green in the dim silver light of the afternoon, and Louis’s breath caught in his throat as his own eyelids fluttered shut and he grasped the back of Harry’s neck, going up on his tip toes to press their lips together.  

If Louis had thought he’d ached before, he’d really had no idea.  The kiss was electric and delicious and perfect and he moaned softly into it as Harry’s lips parted and their tongues slid together, the contact seeming to spark every nerve in Louis’s body at once.  He had a litany of _harryharryharryharry_ running through his mind on a loop as he tried to pull Harry closer, just a little bit closer, feeling like it was impossible to ever get close enough.  Harry had one hand twisted in the fabric of Louis’s hoodie at his waist, the other on his lower back, fingers splayed out and pressing.  He was holding Louis firmly against him, as if he couldn’t get close enough either. Harry adjusted the angle of his head then, to deepen the kiss, stroking his tongue against Louis’s with such measured skill that Louis felt himself go weak in the knees, letting out a small noise as he melted further against Harry.

  _Where the fuck did he learn to kiss?_

Louis really didn’t know what he’d been expecting, kissing Harry, but he didn’t know how _anyone_ could have possibly anticipated _this_. It was like hot slow fragile magic and Louis was in absolute sensory overload. His whole body was lit up and hypersensitized, like everything touching his skin was practically electrocuting him. Harry dragged his hand up to the middle of Louis’s back and pressed him even closer.  It caused such sharp increase of deep wanting to drop to Louis’s groin that he gasped involuntarily and broke the kiss.  He rested his head on Harry’s collarbone, breathing heavily, his heart pounding, too weak to move.  He was already so hard, just from the kissing.

“Lou,” Harry said quietly, after a moment. The slow sound of his voice was hoarse and wrecked and Louis almost whimpered into his chest in response. He fisted one of his hands into Harry’s t-shirt, desperately needing some kind of leverage in order to lean back on his heels and support his own weight again.  He took a ragged breath as he moved, inhaling the scent of tangy sweat and grass that clung to Harry and feeling heady from it.  Louis blinked up at Harry, still loosely encircled in his arms, “fuck.” He said softly and Harry laughed.  Louis felt it rumble out of Harry and he smiled, still dazed, he definitely didn’t have the energy or wherewithal to laugh quite yet.  _I’m the one who’s wrecked_. He thought, a renewed spike of adrenaline hitting his heart, Louis felt a strange tug of emotion swirl inside of him.

He looked down at where Harry’s hands rested lightly at his waist. They were trembling a little, the skin still stippled from the cool air.

“You’re-“ Louis croaked out.  He covered one of Harry’s hands with his own. “You’re still cold.”

There was a beat and then Harry gave a low laugh. It vibrated softly between their bodies.

“What?” Louis said, his mouth in a twisty little smile as he bit his lip and looked up at Harry.

Harry looked at him and shook his head, still laughing a little, “That’s not really why I’m shaking, Louis.” He said finally, looking amused and slightly sheepish and a little pleased all at once.

_Oh_. Louis thought. _Oh_.

Harry wound his fingers around Louis wrist and surveyed the park.  He sighed. “C’mon.” He said as he tugged Louis’s arm, “Let’s go to my house.”

Louis gave a hint of a nod and then they were heading off down the path out of Iverson and toward Harry’s house.  Louis trailed behind by several steps, but Harry never let go of his wrist.


	10. Chapter 10

The following Tuesday they were all at Liam’s house for a special band practice.  The past week or so Liam had been hyping up something he’d been calling “My Presentation” in a hilariously over-serious tone. Louis couldn’t help but make fun of him about it every time he said it.

“You just wait and see, Tommo,” Liam had said, “Just wait and see.  It’s already 15 slides long.”

To which Louis had just started laughing, “Liam, you could put like one letter a piece on each slide for all we know.  What the fuck is your ‘pre-sen-taaaaation’”, he mimicked Liam’s over enunciation of the word, “about?”

“Like I said.  You’ll just have to wait and see!”

“It’s at least related to Wendy, right?” Louis had asked, giving his friend a distrusting look as he continued messing around on his drums, “I mean, it’s not some weird power point thingie about turtles or something?”

“Turtles are cool, Louis.” Liam had grumbled with a sigh. “But no, it’s not about them.”

It turned out to be a slide show presentation about the bands that would most likely be Wendy’s biggest competition at Battle, with an extra little section that had a profile of each judge.  Liam’s father had a projector from work and Liam had strung up a sheet so he could project the presentation onto the wall in his basement. He had a little stack of index cards with notes on them that he was going to refer to as he presented.  Harry thought it was pretty endearing.  Zayn, who was there for extra insider information on the judging panel, and Louis did too, but for them it manifested itself in unrelenting teasing.

Harry had to admit, the presentation itself was kind of unintentionally hilarious.  Liam had clearly spent a lot of time gathering a bunch of Peter Pan related gifs from around the internet, but not quite so much time editing the text for grammar and spelling mistakes.  And he didn’t have any sort of eye for graphic design, whatsoever.

The very first slide had caused Zayn and Louis to go into absolute hysterics right away. A big picture of Dustin Hoffman as Captain Hook appeared, checker boxing in on an off-putting teal background. Then came the text, grammatical error and all, “WHOSE OUT TO GET WENDY???” it said, each word appearing individually for added emphasis, all in a strange curlicue font.  Liam had really gotten into the PowerPoint animations, Harry realized. 

“Are you serious?” Louis choked out between giggle fits, hitting Zayn repeatedly on the arm.

Liam was giving them both a look, but also sort of biting his lip to keep from smiling, and Harry suspected that he’d sort of purposely played into their hands and maybe it wasn’t quite so unintentionally hilarious after all.  That made Harry feel better about the laughter he was trying to suppress.  Liam pointedly cleared his throat and sort of straightened out his note cards, as if to continue, but then Zayn made an inevitable joke to Louis about how it was a miracle Liam hadn’t picked Comic Sans.  To which Louis had responded, “Give it time, Give it time! Only the first slide, Zayn, only the first slide!” and they were collapsing and giggling on each other all over again.

Louis caught Harry staring at him right in the middle of the laughter.  Their eyes met suddenly and held for a beat and Louis hushed at once, going quiet and blinking and Harry felt such an intense pulse of arousal shoot through his body from it that his mouth fell open and he nearly lost his breath. He dropped his gaze to his lap, twisting his hands and blushing furiously.  Since he’d gotten to Liam’s a half hour before, every time he’d made so much as fleeting eye contact with Louis it was like he was transported directly back to the heightened state of Sunday afternoon. Because God. _Sunday Sunday Sunday_.  That was all that he was ever thinking about anymore, really, when he wasn’t thinking about _Louis Louis Louis Louis_.  Actually it was more like _Louis Louis Sunday Louis Louis on Sunday Sunday Louis Louis._

Harry had marched the three blocks home from Iverson that day very determinedly.  Louis was trailing behind him slightly, his wrist still encircled by Harry’s fingers, and Harry’d been hopped up on adrenaline and had definite plans for when they got to his house.  Well, just the one plan, really.  Kissing Louis again.  He was going to drag Louis into his house as quickly as he could and then push him back up against the door and just kiss and kiss and kiss. 

But by the time they’d gotten there and he’d ushered Louis inside, the adrenaline had faded somewhat and he’d lost his nerve.  Louis had looked around with his eyes wide, sort of nervously fidgeting in the entryway, and then Harry remembered he was the only one who knew his parents had gone to visit his Great Aunt Amanda and wouldn’t be back for hours. 

“So…,” Louis said, sort of craning his neck to peak into the living room after they’d taken off their shoes.  (Harry had to sit on the stairs to unlace his before yanking them off. He’d read on the internet you weren’t suppose to toe off your running shoes. That it was bad for them.) 

“They’ve gone to Sheffield.” Harry blurted out. Louis looked at him with quizzical surprise. “My parents.” He explained. “They’re visiting my Great Aunt Amanda.  They won’t uh they won’t be back til late.” He finally managed. 

Louis nodded and sort of drifted toward the living room and somehow Harry was following his lead, even though it was Harry’s house.

“She always serves really gross food.” Harry said, too jittery to endure any silence, “Like pickled herring.  And this weird meat jelly that only my mum will try.”

“Aspic.” Louis said absently, a soft smile on his face as he looked a big-eyed picture of toddler Harry on the mantle above the fireplace.  

“Huh?” Harry said.

“Aspic,” Louis repeated, turning to look at Harry then, “Meat jelly, it’s called aspic.”

“Oh.” Harry said, ruffling his hair a little and wincing internally as he remembered how sweaty he was from his run. “Well, whatever it’s called, it’s definitely disgusting.”

Louis laughed at that. “I’ll have to take your word for it, Harold.”

Harry blushed at the nickname, as always, and ducked his head.  “We have a piano.” He said, out of nowhere, trying to distract himself from his nervousness. He gestured toward the upright against the far wall.

Louis smirked at him, his brow quirking, he peered up into Harry’s eyes, “Oh that’s what that is, then?”

Harry rolled his eyes, and laughed, “Yes. That’s what it is.” He said, sighing and staring back down at Louis, not willing to give him the satisfaction of breaking the eye contact.

“Can you play at all?” Louis asked, he’d moved forward toward the piano, leaning on the swivel-y stool that stood before it with one knee.  He tinkled a couple of keys and looked up at Harry again.

Harry nodded with a little shrug.

“Play me something, then.” Louis said, his voice raspy and bright, “and try to sing, please.” He kept pulling the ends of his sweatshirt sleeves over his fists, and he covered his mouth with one of them now, but Harry could still see the teasing smile pulling at the corner of his lips. 

“The new song?” He asked, clearing his throat and moving to sit on the stool.  Louis had backed away from the piano and was perched on the very edge of the nearby couch, his back ramrod straight, knees bouncing up and down. 

He shrugged, “Doesn’t have to be.”

Harry sighed, relieved.  He could maybe play the piano a little better than Louis, his Gran having sternly taught him the fundamentals when he was a kid, but he’d never really been all that the good at singing and playing at the same time.  It seemed like he couldn’t quite coordinate his brain to work that way and now, with his heart beating very fast from having Louis’s eyes on him and his nerves still so shot from the kissing before, he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle playing anything complicated at all. So he turned back to the piano and started to play a very simple version of Amazing Grace, one he knew the music and lyrics to by heart and had been playing since he was ten. He was genuinely surprised when his voice came out deep and husky and steady, somehow managing not to betray his nerves. 

Because he was all nerves at that point, a bundle of raw sparking nerves for Louis.  And they compounded themselves when Louis got up off the couch at the end of the first verse and began to move closer to Harry as he sang.  By the time Harry’d reached the middle of the second, Louis was standing directly behind him, Harry could feel it, could sense that there was maybe about a foot between them and closing.  Then half a foot, then inches, then an inch, then barely a centimeter, until finally Louis’s body was flush against his back.  Harry had been having trouble regulating his breathing as Louis moved closer, and his breath hitched at the contact, his heart absolutely pounding as he felt Louis’s little tummy press against his spine. Louis placed his hands lightly on Harry’s shoulders then, which caused him to stumble a bit over the lyrics and almost lose his place in the song. 

“Don’t stop.” Louis had murmured pleadingly, lowering his head a tad to whisper into Harry’s right ear.  A shiver ran down Harry’s spine and he took a deep shuddering breath and managed to continue.  He was filled with so much aching longing, he wanted to touch Louis so much, that the song came out almost as a complaint, his singing was almost a broken frustrated whine. And then Harry felt Louis bury his hands in his hair, the rough tips of his fingers rubbing lightly at his scalp. And that was it.  It was entirely too much to take. Harry let out a combination of gasp and moan and swiveled the piano stool around in a quick fluid motion, his legs falling open on either side of Louis. He grabbed Louis by the hips and tugged him forward between his thighs. Harry had to fight very hard to resist the urge to crush his face into Louis stomach.  He wanted to clutch at Louis and pull him as close as possible and press his face against the small pooch of his belly and inhale.  But Louis still had his hands entangled in Harry’s hair and he was tugging at the curls at the nape of Harry’s neck, pulling his head back so he was staring up at Louis above him. Harry swallowed a whimper and almost went slack jawed when he saw the darkened look on Louis’s face. 

_Jesus Christ._ Harry had never been so turned on in his entire life.  He was so hard in his running shorts, his heart beating so fast, breath coming so quick, he felt like he was maybe going to pass out. He was having this strange sensation that the piano stool was sinking into the floor with him on it, that he was going to sink right out of consciousness if Louis didn’t stop looking at him like that, with so much heavy intent in his eyes, his hands still pulling gently on Harry hair. 

And then Louis let out a quiet, broken, “Harry,” his breath hitching as he spoke. “You make me crazy,” and his lips were on the exposed column of Harry’s throat and he was still whispering as he kissed along it, “So crazy, Hazza, so crazy.”

And _holy god_ , Harry wasn’t just going to lose consciousness, he wasn’t just going to pass out, he might actually be going to die. It suddenly seemed entirely possible that this just might be the end for Harry Styles, death on his Gran’s old piano stool from too much sexual tension.  Louis straightened up then and regarded Harry again, staring down at him with his lips slightly parted, and Harry’s inane train of thought was broken by the striking beauty of Louis’s face. If this pause had lasted any more than two seconds, Harry might have stomped his foot in pure frustration, he was in such torment.  But Louis was quickly cursing under his breath and angling Harry’s head to the side before kissing him properly at last, his tongue so wickedly perfect against Harry’s that Harry almost sobbed from the sensation.  Instead, a low resonating moan came from the base of his throat and Louis hummed against him in response, body vibrating with obvious pleasure.

And again, Harry couldn’t stand it any longer. He needed more, needed to be closer, so much closer.  He ran his hands up the back of Louis thighs to the bottom of his perfect ass, and lifted, pulling Louis up and snug against him as he rose from the piano stool.  Louis’s legs wrapped around Harry automatically, as Harry carried him to the sofa and lowered them both down onto the overstuffed cushions slowly, his long body between Louis’s thighs. They never stopped kissing.

Harry didn’t see how he could ever possibly get enough of it. Never. He never wanted to stop kissing Louis. He wanted more more more, impossibly more.  He could feel the hard line of Louis’s erection against him, pressing into his hip, and it was making him so incensed with desire that he was almost going mad from it.  He wanted to have Louis, right then, right there on the couch.  And he wanted to be had by Louis right then and right there on the couch.  He wanted everything and anything, all of it.  All of Louis.  All of it with Louis.

Their bodies had been pressed firmly together, Harry slowly grinding down against Louis as they kissed, feeding his own agony, when Harry went up on his elbows to realign a little.  His t-shirt hung down loose off his stomach and Louis seized the opportunity to slide his hands up and under it, running his palms over the cobbles of Harry’s abs and further to his chest.  Harry shuddered under the touch, groaning as he felt Louis’s hands skate over all of his nipples.  He so was overwhelmed at that point, so completely intoxicated by Louis, that he let out a short barking squawk of laughter and clapped his hand over his mouth in shock, as he realized that he’d been just barely able to stopped himself from ridiculously blurting out “I love you” in between kisses.  He really was losing his mind.

“What?” Louis said, smiling up at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners from it, even though they were hooded with lust.  The room had grown darker by then, the sun slowly setting without their notice, and Harry was pained by how beautiful Louis looked in the half-light. 

Harry just shook his head vigorously, “Nothing”, he said, burrowing his face in Louis’s neck and kissing up to his ear.

“No.” Louis, his voice bleary “Something.”

Harry shook his head again, “uh-uh, nothing,” he said.  He did his best to distract Louis by running the tips of his fingers along the waistband of Louis’s trousers.

Louis let out a little gasp at that, but he fisted his hands in Harry’s hair and pulled his head back so he could get a look at him.

“Tell me.” He demanded. And then he softened his eyes, and added, “please.”

Harry shook his head and giggled, glad that he was already so flushed from kissing that his blush didn’t show, “You’ll have to do better than that, Tommo.” he said softly into Louis’s ear, making Louis squirm beneath him, “It really was nothing.”  And then he dropped his mouth back down on Louis’s, grinding their hips together at the same time. Louis moaned against him and gripped the back of his neck to pull him closer and Harry knew he’d won.

Or it felt like he had for about 30 seconds, before Louis shot upright on the couch, cursing.

“Holy fuck, Harry, what time is it? How did it get so dark??” He had asked, eyes wild. “Is it six o’clock already?” he patted around the sofa frantic to find his phone, finally locating it under a decorative throw pillow. “6:15. Fuck” he said under his breath. “Fuck.”  He leapt to his feet, struggling to rearrange his clothing, patting his hair down and unzipping and rezipping his hoodie, adjusting himself in his jeans.  He looked decidedly post-snog, despite his best efforts, his lips a touch too pink and swollen, his hair still matted in the back, sticking up in random tufts in the front.  He teetered a bit, as if he didn’t really trust his balance.  

He looked back at Harry then, who was still stunned and sprawled out on the couch, his mouth agape.  Louis swore again, this time it came out as an apologetic groan, “Oh fuck, Hazza.” He shoved his hand in his hair, “I have to go home and watch my sisters.” He kept patting his pockets, probably trying to confirm he still had his house key. “My mum has second shift at the hospital this week and, and Lottie has – fuck - she has dance rehearsal.” He explained, “I said I’d be home by six. I-I lost track of time.” He kept glancing at his phone, as if somehow it would be an hour earlier if he just checked one more time.  “Lottie is going to _murder_ me.” He mumbled. 

Harry followed him out to the front hall, where Louis had started shoving his shoes back on his sockless feet.  “This isn’t over, Harold,” Louis said hoarsely, working his left heel back and forth, it was stubbornly remaining outside of his converse.  Harry hadn’t even consciously considered the possibility that whatever “this” was could be over at all, but hearing Louis confirm that it wasn’t out loud made the best kind of giddy ache bloom in his chest.  Harry wasn’t feeling too sure on his feet either.  Louis finally gave up and leaned down, tugging at the back of the shoe to get his foot in all the way.  He peered up at Harry from under his lashes and the disorganized fringe of his hair. “Damn it,” He said, shaking his head “God damn it,” He stood up and pulled Harry to him one last time, kissing him breathless before breaking apart and shoving him away, shaking his head all the while, as if he could only possibly escape Harry’s orbit if he created some kind of bodily distance between them. Louis let out a strangled “fuck” again and yanked open the front door.  He looked back over his shoulder at Harry as he ran up the stone path in the front yard toward the street, “It’s not over, Styles!! It isn’t over!” Harry thought that maybe it was most adorable thing he’d ever seen, Louis’s frantic little body disappearing from view around the hedge, the little slivers of bare skin at his ankles visible as he went.   

As soon as Louis was completely out of sight, Harry closed the front door and leaned back against it with a groan.  _I am so fucked_ , he’d thought, biting his lip.  Not over?  It better not be.  It couldn’t be.  Harry couldn’t bring himself to even try to understand a world where he never got to touch Louis Tomlinson again. He was not willing to acknowledge that as a possible version of reality.  Harry really didn’t want to think about his near miss from earlier, either, but thoughts of it flooded into his mind against his will.  _I love you??_ He thought with a moaning wince, _What is wrong with you, you idiot? Fuck._ Harry rolled his eyes and covered his face with his hands.  He might not have been in love with Louis as of yet, but he had an unsettling feeling that he might be dangerously, embarrassingly close. Like one too many more fond looks from Louis would tip him right over into it.  Like one too many more incidences of Louis teasing him in that way he did, the way that made Harry feel like he was floating, that’s all it would take.  _Fuck._ He thought again.  And then he thought about the way Louis’s belly had felt, pressed up against his back, and the way his hands had looked so big as they spanned Louis hips and he’d groaned again and went directly upstairs to his room to have a wank.

So it wasn’t his fault then, really, that he couldn’t stop thinking of Sunday, now that he was finally in the same room with Louis again. It had only been two days, but it felt like it might as well have been 2 months.  He and Niall had a football match out of town that Monday night, so they’d missed band practice, and Harry felt utterly ridiculous because he suddenly resented being on the team since it meant he’d missed seeing Louis. Louis, who was driving him slowly mad, texting him right as he’d had fallen into bed that night:

 

**Missed you at Wendy, Styles.  Still not over!! ;) x**

How could a normal person think about anything else, with Louis being how he was?  How could he really be expected to pay full attention to Liam’s presentation right now, when he kept remembering the hard hot press of Louis cock against his hip? _Shit._ Harry flushed further, his pulse warming his cheeks at the thought. 

He could still feel Louis’s eyes on him and it took all of his will power to train his gaze up to where Dustin Hoffman was still being projected onto the sheet on the wall.  He told himself to concentrate on the massive black Captain Hook wig on Hoffman’s head.  That should be good boner discouragement.  But then his mind doubled crossed him and he was picturing Louis in the wig and he started to feel confused. Thankfully, Liam pressed the little clicker in his hand just then, and Dustin disappeared and a picture of the first of Wendy’s rival bands spun onto the screen, and stayed there.

“Oh Patty Bishop’s band, first huh Li?” Louis said with a smirk. Zayn snorted and Niall craned his neck around to get a look at everyone’s faces, trying to read the situation. Niall was always eager to for a hint of gossip, like all normal people, and he wasn’t ashamed.  It reminded Harry that Niall was kind of the best, always.

Liam blushed slightly, ignoring Louis and Zayn and studying his notecards intently.  He continued on.

“Patty and the Valentines play soul infused Rock ‘n Roll.” He read off.

“Bet _you’d_ like to be someone’s Valentine.” Zayn said, with a smile in his voice. Niall laughed, raising his eyebrows further in delight.

Liam rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, “Strengths are - their charismatic lead singer, Patty Bishop and their several years of experience playing together as a band.”

“Charismatic lead singer, schmarismatic lead singer,” Louis said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Threat neutralized! We’ve got Harry.  He’s practically Sasha Fierce.” 

Niall let out another delighted snort of appreciative laughter. Harry’s face burned. It seemed like lately whenever he was with Louis he was just destined to be in a state of perpetual blush. 

“So, when do I finally get to see Walter Furious over there perform?” Zayn asked, motioning over to where Harry sat, nervously adjusting his fringe.

“Wait, wait.” Louis said, slightly indignant. “Did you just give Hazza a stage persona name?” He asked.

Zayn laughed and nodded and shrugged, looking over to Harry for approval.

“No way!” Louis squeaked out, “No way! If anyone gets to do that, it’s me!”

Zayn and Liam let out incredulous laughs and Niall just sat on his stool, beaming, looking back and forth between Louis and Harry.  Harry felt a familiar feeling of floating happiness expanding in his heart.  Suddenly, he felt relaxed enough to look Louis in the eyes, lips quirking into a smile as he did. “Oh, so I get absolutely no say in the matter?  Is that how it is?”

Louis smiled back, “Hush, Harold! I’m thinking.” He said, waving Harry off with one hand, thoughtful fingers at his lips.

Louis groaned, “Fuck, Zayn, how’d you come up with the best possible name so quickly?” he slumped back into the easy chair he was perched on, small frame swallowed up between the high arm rests, “I’m drawing a complete blank.” He sounded so genuinely and adorably disappointed in himself.  Harry grinned.

“Guess Walter Furious is it, then.  Thank you, Mr. Malik.” He said with a happy shrug, reaching out to fist bump Zayn. 

“Sure, Mate!” Zayn said, looking quite pleased with himself.

“I will not admit defeat!” Louis said, eyes locked on Harry’s, his mouth set in a determined yet amused line.“This is not over, Styles.  It isn’t over!” 

_Oh_. Hearing those particular words come out of Louis’s mouth was like getting a giant static electric shock, they hair on Harry’s arms raised and he felt a sharp pang in his chest. So much for being at ease. Harry’s heartbeat was zipping again and he was even more light-headed than before. 

He was somewhat gratified, though, to see that Louis probably hadn’t realized the significance of what he was saying until after he said it.  That he wasn’t purposely tormenting Harry with longing, just accidentally so, as his cheeks were suddenly as pinked as Harry’s. Louis squirmed a little in his chair upon seeing the darkened look on Harry’s face. 

“How long do you think this presentation is going to last, Liam?” Louis asked, slightly bitchily, picking at the ratty fake leather upholstery that surrounded him. Harry almost started to laugh, comforted.  It was easy to forget that he wasn’t alone in this. That he wasn’t the only one who really really didn’t want it to be over.

“Shut it, Tommo, this is only the second slide.” Liam said, “If you don’t want it to take so long, maybe you and Zayn should quit it with your brilliant side commentary.”

“We can’t do that, Li.” Louis said, his tone soft, “it’s brilliant, like you said.”

But Louis remained quiet for almost the rest of the slideshow, letting Zayn and Niall and very occasionally Harry make comments and ask questions as it continued.  He did keep glancing over at Harry every so often, stoking the growing heat in Harry’s stomach with every look.  Harry had pretty much completely checked out mentally by the time Liam got to the last slide.  He was yanked out of his reverie when he heard Niall’s voice pipe up.

“Aiden Grimshaw?” he asked, looking around the room, confused, “Is that really fair?”

“What do you mean?” Liam asked.

“Wull, wasn’t he like, basically _in_ this band last year?” Niall asked, “I mean, couldn’t he be like, sort of biased? As a judge?”

Liam and Zayn let out some rueful laughter and Louis seemed to be concentrating even harder on the rip in the fabric on the armrest to his right.

“I dunno, it would be hard to say which way he’d be biased, Niall,” Liam said, “I mean on the one hand, I wasn’t overly cordial the last time I talked to the guy.  But on the other hand-” He sort of half gestured to Louis at that point and Louis shot him such a look that Liam’s eyes widened in obvious fear and he quickly changed tack, coughing a little as he said, “Right, well, anyway, I don’t think it’ll be an issue, Niall, is all I’m saying.”

Harry had to concentrate very very hard on acting as if this exchange hadn’t affected him.  That it hadn’t sent his mind reeling and caused a knot of worry to form in his stomach.  It only confirmed what Harry had suspected, really, standing in the crowd at Battle last year, biting his lip while he watched Louis playing the drums. Watching as Louis kept a perfect beat, his eyes never leaving Aiden, as he played the guitar and sang. It only confirmed what Harry’d suspected, but it twisted a knife of jealousy in him just the same, which he wouldn’t have expected of himself. Harry knew he was younger than Louis and most likely much less experienced, and right then he really felt it all the way. He felt the realization settle heavy in his bones.  He felt small and insecure and vulnerable and strangely angry at Aiden Grimshaw just for existing.  It had just become apparent to Harry that for the first time in his life he might be in complete danger of having his heart broken.  _I am in way over my head._ He was staring at his hands, blank faced, totally lost in thought.

And then Niall was snapping him out of it, saying, “Hey, Haz, you ok to walk home on your own?  I told my dad I’d stop at the shop and help him sort the new beef.” Niall’s dad was a butcher, and sides of beef were heavy.

Harry blinked up at Niall, rubbing his eyes, “What?” Liam was taking down the sheet now and Louis and Zayn were nowhere to be seen, Harry had really been mentally absent there for a minute, “Oh yeah, sure.” He said, stretching and looking around for his shoes.

“Ok, great.” Niall said, adjusting the straps on his ridiculous neon backpack. “See you, later! Liam, that presentation was sick.” And he was up the stairs and out of the house before Harry even had his chucks back on his feet.   

Harry stood up and nodded at Liam, “Yeah, man, that was great.” He said, stretching again and shrugging into his lightweight jacket.

“Thanks,” Liam said, smiling, “See you tomorrow, Harry.”

“Yep.” Harry felt like a crotchety old man going up the stairs, his shoulders tense.  He really couldn’t help but be deeply disappointed that Louis had left without so much as a good bye.  _Here I am,_ He thought, feeling pathetic, _practically picking out baby names._

He slipped out onto the Payne’s front stoop and glanced down at his phone to see what time it was.  When he looked back up, his heart skipped a beat. 

There was Louis, in Liam’s front yard, waiting for him.

 “You didn’t think I’d left without you, did you, Curly?” Louis asked, smiling at him almost shyly as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Harry ordered himself not to freak completely out about this new nickname, even though he could already feel his heart swelling from it as he did.  He shrugged and smiled back at Louis, trying not to break out into a full grin.

“Like I said, it’s not over, Styles.  Not yet.” Louis’s voice was soft and a touch bashful, and something about that set Harry’s heart racing even more.  Louis extended his hand, “Let me walk you home, please.” He said and he looked up at Harry on the front steps, his eyes twinkling and full of hope.

“Ok.” Harry said, quietly, a little breathless, coming down off the steps and lacing their fingers together.  He definitely might be in danger of having his heart broken, but maybe he wouldn’t change that for anything in the world. 


	11. Chapter 11

Louis felt a shiver run up his spine as Harry took his hand. It made him shimmy his shoulders a little involuntarily, and he hoped it looked like he was just snuggling into his jean jacket against the cold. He teetered as they stepped off the curb in front of Liam’s house and he pulled down on Harry’s arm to steady himself, reveling in the way Harry felt so sturdy and warm next to him.  He let his cheek rest against Harry’s shoulder as they turned and walked up Carroll Street toward the East side of town. They’d lapsed into a comfortable silence as they went, and it was so nice that Louis thought he might be on track to set a world record for most contented sighs in the shortest span of time.  He was in a mild state of physical pain from how happy he was just to be alone with Harry again. _God_. It was turning out that Louis liked Harry almost an alarming amount.

He’d been thinking of little else since Sunday. Not only had Harry been almost constantly on his mind just because, but it also felt like the universe was conspiring against him and that everything he’d encountered over the past few days related back to Harry somehow, and he wasn’t to blame! It wasn’t just his newly acquired Harry-centric brain programming that was doing it, it really wasn’t!  How was he supposed to avoid thinking of Harry Styles when the BBC, for example, insisted on showing documentaries about the life and times of Franz Liszt on Sunday evenings?  Was he supposed to just forget about Harry’s beautiful wrists and hands on that piano? Pale and perfect in the dim late-afternoon light? How could the documentarians be so cruel as to mention that Liszt’s hands were abnormally large, so he could reach chords that other pianists couldn’t? How could they? Were they purposefully driving him upstairs to wank? Well, mission accomplished, documentarians, mission accomplished!   Louis had been further ambushed on Monday night, when Lottie demanded that they watch some stupid movie about the theft of a diamond starring that guy from Avatar and Ed Harris, and suddenly there was Billy Elliot, all grown up and doing an excellent, A+++ job of wearing skinny black denim and sambas.  Louis’d been terrified to realize he thought Harry probably wore jeans better, in fact, he _knew_ Harry did!   

And it got worse.  Because not only did Louis think of Harry in a pretty much completely non-stop-I-can’t-even-escape-you-in-my-dreams kind of way, he also just wanted to tell him about everything that was happening to him all the time.  He and Harry had exchanged about ten text messages since Sunday afternoon, but Louis had already had about 4500 conversations with Harry in his mind since then.  Surely Harry would be interested to know about how annoyed Louis’d been on Monday when Fizzy’d only left him half an inch of milk for his cereal, effectively preventing him from being able to have any at all, because what was worse than cereal with not enough milk? (“Ugh, Not much.” According to Harry in Louis’s mind). Surely Harry would also be interested to know that Coco Pops were Louis’s number one favorite cereal, then Lucky Charms. (“I like…Corn Flakes”, Harry in his mind would respond slowly in his Harry voice, with a little Harry smile on his face, forcing Louis to push up against a wall and kiss him, because how could he not?) And surely Harry would also be interested to know that Louis ate cereal most days, but when he had hot breakfast, he like French Toast. (“Not a fry up?” Harry in his mind would ask in an affectionately surprised voice, to which Louis would smile and shake his head and say “second favorite”.)

Apparently, thinking of Harry all the time was putting him in a noticeably good mood. At least, according to Zayn.  Louis had walked Zayn to work that afternoon for the first time in a while.  They’d been trudging along in companionable silence, occasionally picking out a pebble to kick down the sidewalk for a block or two and Louis had been minding his own business, daydreaming about potential covers for Wendy to do that Harry would sound particularly sick doing the vocals for. The Ship Song? Jolene?  Rhiannon? God, anything Stevie Nicks… When Zayn stopped in his tracks, looked at Louis, shook his head and started out right laughing at him.

“What?’ Louis had asked, blinking as he came back to reality.

“Did you and Styles do it or something, Tommo?” Zayn asked, his voice full of amusement.

“Whaaa?” Louis said, his head jerking back in surprise.

“Did you guys do it?”

“What? No. Why?” Louis sputtered, “What? No!”

“Nothing happened?” Zayn asked skeptically, “Nothing at all?”

Louis looked down at the ground, all of a sudden incredibly interested in their most recently acquired kick-pebble, rolling it around under his shoe, “ummmmmm”

“I knew it!” Zayn hooted, clapping his hands a few times and actually doing a full twirl, Zayn loved being right – just like everyone else. “I knew it! Tell me, tell me!”

Louis rolled his eyes, feeling unexpectedly shy, “How’d you know?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What?” Zayn said, in an almost offended tone, “You’ve been like a punk happiness elf for the past two days!” He gestured toward Louis as he continued, “You’re radiant with new love or new lust or whatever it is, my friend. Humans can tell these things.”

Louis snorted a little in disbelief.

“Oh, you don’t believe me?” Zayn asked.

Louis shrugged. Zayn rolled his eyes.

“You’ve almost walked into the hedgerow about four times since we set out from school and every time you get a twig to the face you just giggle, Louis.” Zayn said, “You’ve been in danger of losing an eye today, and your reaction has been to laugh. So, yeah, I think it’s pretty obvious. It’s like you’ve been surrounded by a cloud of dreamy dreamy love. So please, tell me all about it.”

“Losing an eye?” Louis said, shoving Zayn on the shoulder at that point, he couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot, though. “I don’t think it’s really _that_ bad.” He paused, “But yeah, ok, you’re right.” He said at last, “We- we kissed.”

“And?”

“We kissed a lot?” Louis ventured, just completely unable to stop himself from grinning.

“And…”

“And fuck, Zayn, I really- I really like him,” Louis admitted, covering his face with one hand and groaning a little.

And Zayn smiled at him and said, “Good.”

“Good?” Louis said. He’d been concerned that Zayn would be concerned.  That he would be all worried, like Louis was in danger of another Aiden situation or something. 

“Yeah,” Zayn said, nodding and slinging an arm around Louis’s shoulder as the continued down the street, “This is different,” He said, “I can tell.”

And Louis nodded, because it _was_ different, he could tell too.

This thing with Harry felt different to Louis, so different than it had been with Aiden that it almost seemed ridiculous to Louis to compare the situations at all. As stupid as it sounded, it really felt like Harry probably _would_ want to discuss cereal preferences with Louis.  That he’d want to discuss anything with him, really.  Which was good, because not only did Louis have these urges to narrate his entire life to Harry lately, he also had all the questions for Harry, about Harry, just burning him up inside.  Besides just wanting to know any sort of random fact pertaining to Harry Styles at all, he was dying from curiosity wondering about who, really seriously, _who_ had taught Harry to kiss? Because being that fucking good at it could not be beginner’s luck that would be unfair.  Was it a girl? Had Harry ever been with a guy before? Was he a virgin? When had he realized he was gay? When had he accepted it? Had he accepted it all the way? Did anyone else know Harry was gay? Did his family? Did Niall? Would he want to be all the way out, if he and Louis were together? Did he want to be together? (Even in Louis’s head, that particular question sounded all squeaky and nervous and so he tried not to think about it, but it seemed to be the most persistent one, like it was eating his brain alive) Louis had all of these questions for Harry, all of these questions that he couldn’t ask quite yet because the timing wasn’t right and he didn’t want to scare Harry off.

So, as they walked up Carroll and turn left on Cass that Tuesday night, squeezing each other’s hands at various intervals and smiling at each other, Louis broke the silence by asking a different question instead, “D’you think you’ll be ok to sing in front of Zayn and my mum and my sisters on Friday?”

They’d been walking down the middle of the street, it was past nine and Cass wasn’t busy anyway, and they stopped when Louis spoke at last.  There was a low quality streetlight about two or three yards away and Harry was backlit by it, limned in an eerie amber.  He bit the side of his finger and looked down a Louis.  He was nervous but hopeful, Louis could tell, and fuck, this kid was endearing.

“We’ll just do the covers,” he said, reaching up to brush Harry’s hair off his forehead before he could stop himself.

Harry nodded, “Yeah,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, ok.” Louis trailed his hand down to Harry’s face and Harry exhaled slowly, his eyes dropping shut as he pressed his cheek into Louis’s palm. “They’re listening through the door anyway, right?” Harry asked, laughing quietly.  Louis knew Harry was laughing at both the girls _and_ himself and his heart swelled from it.  He laughed in agreement as he moved his hand to the back of Harry’s neck, burrowing it up into Harry’s curls.  Harry hummed in appreciation, his lips curled in a happy little smile. His eyes were still closed and his lashes cast long shadows on his cheeks in the soft glow of the streetlamp.  Louis’s breath caught, Harry was stunning.

“Christ, Styles,” he muttered under his breath, crowding in a little closer, “You’ve been killing me slowly for about 4 weeks now.”

Harry gave a small snort, his eyes blinking open. They twinkled down at Louis in the low light, “Well, Tomlinson,” He said, “you’ve been killing _me_ slowly for about three years now, so I don’t feel too bad about that.”

Before Louis even had a chance to process that statement, Harry was dipping his head, murmuring something that sounded like “so pretty”, and cradling Louis’s face in his large warm hands before kissing him, slow and sweet. _God_.  Louis thought. _God._ His heart fluttered in his chest as their lips moved against each other and Harry’s tongue stole into his mouth.  _God._ That sent a shock right through his nervous system and he clutched the back of Harry’s neck more tightly, pulling their bodies together as he did it.  Louis’s blood was thrumming through him, he could feel it pulsing in the veins of his forearms so insistently that it ached.

After a few minutes he felt Harry smile against his mouth. 

“What?” Louis asked, pausing between kisses.

Harry just smiled again.  He shook head almost imperceptibly, still dropping kisses down on Louis, making a strategic move over to his neck.  

“No. Noooo.” Louis said in a whine, shivering at the sensation but refusing to lose concentration. “What is it?” he forced himself to pull back so he could look up into Harry’s eyes.

Harry shrugged. He was trying to suppress the smile now, succeeding only very marginally.

“No way are you getting away with this again, Styles!” Louis said, his eyebrows raised, “tell me, tell me!” his hands were at Harry’s waist now, and he pulled Harry to and fro as he made his demands. “I hope you don’t think I’m above tickling, Harry, because I’m not.”

 Harry giggled and looked away from Louis for a second, blushing slightly and rolling his eyes.  He looked back. Louis batted his eyelashes a little. Harry laughed again.

“Ok, Fiiiiiiiiine.” He let out at last, a big sigh coming with it. He shook his head at Louis again and shrugged and said, “It’s nothing, really. It’s just.” he cleared his throat nervously, sort of fidgeting his feet around as he spoke, “It’s just, this makes me feel so happy.  That’s all.”

_That’s not nothing_. Louis had this sensation like he was a balloon full of helium and someone had let go of his string and that he was floating up, up, and away from earth.  He felt so heady and high, like his stupid fucking idiot soul was soaring over rivers and forests and valleys and there were beautiful majestic mountains all over the place.

When Louis first went to respond it turned out that emotional overload had scrambled his vocal chords so it took a few beats longer than he wanted, but then he said, “This…uh.” And then he took a jagged inhalation of breath and whispered, “This makes me feel happy, too, Harry… _really_ happy.”

Harry wasn’t trying to suppress the smile at all any more.  It was a full Harry smile now, ear to ear, full dimples, and Louis thought maybe he might actually swoon from it because his knees were like jelly from the kissing and Harry was just so painfully wonderful right then that he didn’t even seem like an actual human being that could exist. 

“I’m glad.” Harry said, taking Louis hand again, kissing it softly and smiling at him. Then he tugged gently on Louis’s arm, “Ok, let’s getting going,” He said, glancing at his watch, “I hope my mum fell asleep reading and I can sneak in and pretend I’ve been home for an hour already.”

Louis laughed. “I hope that for you too, Hazza, I hope that for you, too.”

They walked in silence again for several blocks, until they reached the corner of Cass and Astor, where it made more sense for Harry to go left and Louis to go right. 

“Sorry I’m not walking you all the way home,” Louis said, going up on his tiptoes to kiss Harry one more time.

“s’fine.” Harry said, happily, kissing him back.  Harry looked all dreamy-eyed and Louis thought back to what Zayn had been saying that afternoon and he felt even more light head than ever. _Holy god, get a hold of yourself._ He thought.

“See you tomorrow, Lou.” Harry said with a wave as he backed away from Louis and turned to walk up the street. Louis watched him go for a moment. Then he called out after him. “Styles!”

Harry spun around, hands in pockets.

“Still not over.” Louis rasped out, he knew the smile was audible in his voice, “you know, in case you weren’t aware, it isn’t over.  Not yet.”

Harry just nodded, but Louis could feel him grinning in the dark.  Harry raised his arm in a wave, and then turned around and continued toward home. Louis watched him until he turned onto Rosedale Lane and he then started off toward home himself, running most of the way.

 ******

The week passed pretty quickly.  Suddenly it was Friday afternoon already and Louis was puttering around in garage, waiting for the rest of the band to arrive.  Why did everyone else have to have so many extracurriculars? Footy was one thing, but Debate Club? Liam was such a nerd.  Louis loved him, but he was a nerd. 

He looked down at his watch. No one else would be there for another hour at the earliest. _How can it only be 4:30????_ He’d already readjusted his drum kit 4 times since he’d gotten home from school.  He’d swept the floor of the garage, played three songs on the keyboard at super fast tempo, and replaced the two dead light bulbs in the sconce outside on the house next to the garage door.  He’d also busied himself trying to re-fluff the pillows on the ancient green garage couch.  The cushions were covered in moldy looking chartreuse corduroy and weighed like 15 pounds each, you could probably give someone a traumatic brain injury if you ever used one in a pillow fight. They were clearly not fluffable.  But there Louis was, smacking the sides of them to try to get them to perk up, bobbing his head around to avoid the weird dust plums the fluff attempts created.  The couch was pretty gross, but it also reminded him of his grandparent’s old house, the one they’d lived in forever before they’d gotten their much smaller condo and he suddenly found himself trying to inhale the scent of the dust instead of avoiding it, and the next thing he knew he was having a pretty serious sneeze and coughing fit.

 Louis staggered over to his drum stool and sat down, eyes and nose running.  Even through all that, his knee never stopped jiggling.  He simply could not sit still.  _Fuck_.  He just had all this excess energy he didn’t know what to do with. _What is wrong with you?_ He thought, rubbing at his eyes until they stopped watering.  But really, Louis knew what was wrong.  He was nervous.  He was on edge and worried about Wendy playing for his mother and his sisters. Well, to be more accurate, he was worried about and on behalf of Harry, and he couldn’t relax because of it.  It wasn’t that he was nervous that Harry couldn’t sing, obviously.  That wasn’t it at all.  It was that he was so very aware of how well Harry _could_ sing, and how very much Harry didn’t want to let the other boys down. And he was worried that if Harry got too nervous and it didn’t go well then Harry would lose the confidence he’d built up over the past month or so and that would be such a shame.  Because Harry was brilliant.  Louis knew it was true.  So, he really did need to get a hold of himself because he wanted to be a calm and steady presence so Harry felt supported. 

_Ok, deep breaths, deep breaths._ He thought, closing his eyes, _you can do this_. He was using his hands like a conductor to dictate the pace of his breathing, lifting them up with each inhalation, back down as he let the air out.  Slow and steady and measured. _Deep breaths, innnnn and outttt._ He thought. _Calm. Calm yourself._

“What the fuck, Tommo? Are you into some kind of weird yoga thing I don’t know about?” Zayn’s voice startled Louis so badly he almost fell off his drum stool.  He let out a completely ridiculous squeal of surprise.

“Jesus Christ, Zayn!” he yelped, wriggling around to get himself rebalanced on the stool. “Couldn’t you have knocked or something? I thought you couldn’t make it till later.”

Zayn dropped his backpack on the floor with a snort, “Pauline let me off early. When have I ever knocked?” he flopped down onto the couch and put his arms behind his head, closing his eyes.  His feet were kicked up on an armrest, “Plus you wouldn’t have been able to hear me over your heavy breathing anyway, you weirdie.”

“I’m just trying to calm down, ok?” Louis said, rubbing his forehead, “We’re finally playing for my mum and the girls tonight.”

Louis saw Zayn’s face crease up in confusion.  Zayn was aware that Louis really didn’t get nervous playing music, especially not in front of his mother and his sisters, not really in front of any kind of audience at all.  Public speaking was a different story, but performing music? Louis loved it. It only took about 10 seconds before Zayn figured it out.

“Oh my god! Wait!” Zayn said, sitting bolt upright on couch. “Wait, wait, wait! You’re having sympathy nervous pains for Styles?!?” He asked. He didn’t wait for confirmation, “That’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, Lou.”

“Shut up.” Louis grumbled, covering his face with his hands.

Zayn let out a cackle of delight. “You better get that shit under control, mate.  Definitely don’t want him thinking you think he has a reason to be nervous or something.” Zayn laid back down on the couch again and did an overly magnanimous arm gesture, “As you were, Tommo, more yoga breathing, please!”

Louis glared at Zayn, but started the deep breaths again, complete with the accompanying arm motions. Zayn watched him for several breaths and then said, “You know, actually that does seem pretty soothing.”

Louis nodded in agreement while continuing a particularly slow exhalation.

“Well, me too, then! Me too!” Zayn said.  And he sat up and matched his breathing and arm motions to Louis’s. They continued that way for about 8 or 9 more breaths before they were both overcome by their own ridiculousness and they started laughing very hard together instead.

“He’ll be alright.” Zayn said, after they finally finished laughing. 

“I know,” Louis sighed, wringing his hands a bit. “Yeah, I know.”

And it went better than alright, really.  The other boys showed up about and hour after Zayn.  They came over from school together because Debate had ended just after football and they ran into each other in the car park.  Right after they got there, Liam wouldn’t stop talking about some stupid pen-twirling trick you had to learn to be considered a _real_ debater, like it was some kind of Debate-dweeb initiation ritual, and Louis thought again about how Liam was a nerd, but he loved him anyway.  He made eye contact with Harry while Liam was babbling on and on and they both giggled and right then Louis knew everything was going to be fine. Harry kept sweeping his still wet hair off of his face with his thumb and peaking back at Louis and biting his lip over a smile, eyes bright.  He seemed energized and happy and ready.  The only hint of anxiety Harry gave was after they’d finished warming up and Zayn ran into the house to get Jay and the girls and Louis saw his hands shake a little as he adjusted his microphone stand. But it seemed like the right kind of nerves, it made things feel a little electric.

Louis sisters came pouring out into the garage, piling on top of each other on the ugly green couch. Jay sat perched on the back, holding a cup of tea. She looked up at the boys expectantly after the girls had settled in as best as could be expected.     

“Hello.” Harry said, smiling and waving a big floppy handed wave.  His voice tripped out slowly as usual. “I’m Harry.  And we’re Wendy.” Louis’s sisters giggled on the couch, scrunching themselves together in anticipation. Harry turned back to Louis, his eyes wide and lit up, and he nodded. Louis hit his drumsticks together over his head and called out the beat and they launched into Train in Vain, then God Only Knows, and Use Somebody in quick succession.

Afterward, amidst a lot of clapping, his sisters kept demanding “More songs! More songs! Please, one more song!” but his mum ushered them all back into the house saying “Next time, loves.” She turned back to the band and said, “That was really wonderful, boys. Really wonderful.” And she was smiling broadly.  Louis and Liam looked at each other with their eyebrows raised. Her smiles had never been particularly genuine, nor her compliments altogether unqualified when they’d been in Pig Fat. 

Right before she slipped back into the house, she looked directly at Harry over the top of her tea and said, “You, my dear, are very talented.”

Harry turned absolutely neon pink the second the words left her mouth, ducking his head and mumbling “thank you”, though she was gone before he got the words out. He was leaning against a tall stool now, and he looked over at Louis from under his fringe. Louis was so filled up with pride and affection that he want to launch himself across the garage at Harry and kiss his flushed cheeks until he was blushing for an entirely different reason.  Instead, they just sat there and grinned at each other and Louis was so happy.  As much as his want for Harry was driving him crazy, it suddenly seemed entirely acceptable to him that they might just spend the rest of the night smiling at each other stupidly from across the garage.  

“That was brilliant!” Niall crowed, finally snapping them out of it. He was still playing chords here and there, pacing around the garage and buzzing with energy, “I feel incredible!  What is it that people say now? We killed it! That’s what we did! Killed it! Killed it dead.”  He hopped around the garage giving everyone a high five, saying “Kill it!” each successfully completed fiver. “And well done, Haz!” Niall continued, patting Harry on the back “Well done, mate! Overcoming fears! Totally killing it while overcoming fears!”

Harry rolled his eyes at that, but laughed and shook his head.

“Seriously, Styles,” Liam said, earnestly, “We were all good. _You_ were great.  I think we really have a chance to win the whole thing this year.” And Louis thought about how it didn’t matter at all that Liam was a nerd who liked to talk about turtles and pen-twirling, because he was also generous, such a team player.  Liam had been singing lead vocals in Pig Fat and now he was pretty much just backing Harry up, but he wasn’t salty about it at all. 

“That is whyyyy,” Niall said, as he plopped back on his stool again and wobbled around a lot, “we should go to the footy party tonight, to celebrate!!” 

Zayn, who’d been sitting on a rickety folding chair in the corner for the performance, roused himself out of a slouch at the suggestion, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, “Where is it?” He asked. 

“Kev Thill’s,” Harry said, pulling a face and rolling his eyes.

“I know, I know.” Niall said, “He’s kind of a douche-“

Harry gave him a look.

“Ok, he’s definitely a douche.” Niall conceded, “but the rest of the team will be there, they’re not all douches.  And also, I know this more of a motivating factor for some of us than others” eyes flicking over to Harry, “but there _will_ be girls there.” Harry shook his head at Niall, but he was smiling.

_So Niall does know._ Louis thought, spinning a drumstick in his hand.  Of course, then he started wondering if Harry had talked to Niall about him, like he’d talked to Zayn about Harry, and he felt a queasy and nervous hopefulness swirl in his stomach.

“Oh yeah,” Zayn said, “I have English with Maddy Tierney, and she said she and Patty were both gonna be there.” his knee bounced a bit. He had a smirk on his face and he was purposely avoiding making eye contact with Liam, who was quite obviously trying to get his attention.

“Patty, as in Patty Bishop?” Liam squeaked out finally, as he put his bass away. 

Zayn acted like he hadn’t heard him, taking out his phone and scrolling through it. 

Liam cleared his throat. “Patty as in Patty Bishop?” He asked again, louder this time, walking over to Zayn and punching him on the shoulder. “I know you heard me you, wanker.”

Zayn immediately broke into self-satisfied laughter and Liam kept swatting him on the shoulder, “Ok, ok! Yes, Patty Bishop, Li.” He said, knocking Liam’s hand away, “She will be there, you psycho. Sheesh.” He rubbed his shoulder, “That hurt, by the way.”

“Did not.” Liam said.

“No, not really,” Zayn said laughing, “So you’ll come?”

Liam shrugged.

“You don’t have to drink.” Zayn said.

“But you can if you want to!!!” Niall practically shouted while looking incredibly excited to get the night started.

“Ok,” Liam said, “Yeah, I’ll go.” He looked pleased.  Liam never drank. He rarely went to parties and when he did everyone just seemed to know, he was Liam Payne, non-drinker.  But Louis had been suspecting lately that Liam might be changing his mind a little.  That he really sort of wanted someone to apply a bit of peer pressure and get him to drink.  Like he was just waiting for someone to ask him again, so this time he could say yes and everyone would be delighted. Louis wondered if tonight would be the night. 

“Haz?” Niall said, he was bouncing on the balls of his feet now, like he was ready to run right out the door and over to the party any second. He looked like he might skip all the way there. “Louis? Will you be joining us?”

Harry cast a glance back at Louis, who shrugged with a smile.

“Yeah, we’ll come.” Harry said.  Louis hoped no one could see that he was blushing with pleasure that Harry had said “we”.  He busied himself with sliding a bunch of drumsticks into protective sleeves and was not surprised at all to find that his hands were shaking.

“Yayyy weekend!!” Niall said, waving his hands around in the air above his head when they finally filed out of the garage and crammed into Liam’s rusty old Toyota Corolla. “Let’s stop at the kebab place on the way over, I am starved!”

“We just had McDonald’s!” Liam said as he turned the engine over.

“That was over two hours ago,” Niall said with a snort.  He turned to Louis, who was jammed in next to him in the back seat, and did the crazy person motion with his index finger next to his temple with regards to Liam. “Kev lives like three blocks away from me and Haz, Li, Kebab Palace isn’t even out of the way! C’mon, I need a good base if I’m gonna be drinking!” He leaned forward between the two front seats, waiting for Liam’s answer.

“Alright, alright, fine.”

“Yusssssss.” Niall said.  He did a little fist pump before relaxing back against the seat and getting suddenly conversational with Louis. “God, Friday, right Lou?  It’s just so much better than the other days.” Louis nodded and smiled, and Niall seemed satisfied with that. He turned and stared happily up and out the window as if he was enjoying what he could see of the stars.

Louis felt Harry chuckle at Niall next to him and he pressed into Harry’s side as they took a left hand turn.  Niall was right, Friday was pretty great.

About two and a half hours later, Louis slipped out the sliding glass door and onto Kevin Thill’s back deck to get some air.  He’d gotten separated from Harry almost immediately when they’d gotten to the party, yanked off to the kitchen by Kiara Aussler-Shaw, who needed to know right away if he’d heard any rumors about what the spring musical was going to be and if he was going to audition to be in it or just play in the pit.  When he finally gotten back out to the living room, Harry was playing backline versus frontline flip cup with the majority of the football team, so he’d gone down to the basement with Zayn to watch Liam awkwardly flirt with Patty Bishop. 

“He’s not doing too bad,” Zayn said, sounding pleased.  And it was true, for once.  

Louis was pleasantly buzzed by the time he went outside.  The house was all heated up from too many bodies and the night air felt bracing in the best way.  When he closed his eyes he could almost imagine he was by the sea. He looked out over the backyard and let out a slow sigh.

“Hey Lou.” Harry’s deep voice came from behind him and he jumped in response, a little gasp catching in his throat.

“Hi.” He said, turning around and leaning back against the porch railing. 

Harry was sitting up against the house in what appeared to be a rather hideous wicker armchair, assuming it matched the empty one to his right.  His face was almost entirely in darkness, but his long legs stretched out into the moonlight and Louis could see his feet where they crossed at the ankle. 

“Come sit with me.” Harry said, and Louis immediately obliged, feeling a strange thrill when he realized his own legs remained cloaked in darkness, they didn’t extend past the shadow of the house.  _So lanky,_ he thought for what felt like the trillionth time.  He tucked himself up into a ball in the chair and hugged his knees, as if removing the point of comparison would prevent him from thinking about Harry’s body beside him.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. There was something about the way that Harry was so quiet and still, something about the slow regulation of his breathing and the heaviness of his presence next to Louis. Louis could tell he was sad. He could feel it, sharply.  Like it was manifesting in the air somehow.  And it hurt.  The idea of Harry being sad physically hurt Louis. He couldn’t stand the thought of it, he needed to do something to fix it. His left hand darted out and grabbed Harry’s from were it had been laying on the armrest of his chair. 

“What’s wrong, Hazza?” he asked softly, his voice surprisingly thick with emotion. It seemed like such a shame for Harry to be unhappy tonight of all nights, when he’d sung so well, had done so well.  Louis felt so proud of him, and he wanted Harry to feel proud of himself too, like he had earlier, when he’d looked so radiant after Wendy had played.  

 He cradled Harry’s large white hand with both of his own, stroking the back of it with his fingertips and marveling at how it looked like marble in the dark.

Harry sighed, it was slow and ragged and unquestionably sad and Louis felt a heavy knot of worry settle in like a rock under his solar plexus.  It was over the top maybe, but hearing the sigh made Louis feel helpless and dangerously close to tears. 

“Haz?” He asked in a raspy whisper.

“Sorry, Louis.” Harry said, slowly with a wavering laugh. “I- it’s really nothing.”

“No.” Louis said, tugging Harry’s hand in protest. “No, tell me please.”  He needed to know, he needed to be able to help fix it. Or at least help comfort Harry, if it couldn’t be fixed.

Harry laughed a little again, as if he was trying to convince himself that he was ridiculous and that he was overreacting to whatever it was that had upset him.

“Harry,” Louis said, in a tone of mock warning, still stroking Harry’s hand. “Will I always have to threaten tickle torture to get you to talk, hmm?”

And Harry laughed at that genuinely, but it trailed off into sadness at the end and Louis’s heart clenched. Harry leaned forward into the light, and Louis could see his eyes glinting, big and wide and vulnerable and full of hurt, and Louis’s heart clenched even more.

“It’s complicated. But, I-I-“Harry tried again, “I just get so discouraged sometimes, Louis.” His voice breaking a little.  

Louis’s heart was racing.  He nodded, encouraging him to go on, running his fingers over Harry’s palm now.

Harry swallowed, “I just.  I want.” He gave a sheepish little laugh again, as if he felt embarrassed. “I want to come out.  I really do.” He breathed out. Louis had a sense where this was going now, and he shut his eyes tightly in frustration, feeling almost choked by anger at how utterly unfair it was.

“But nights like tonight,” Harry went on, “Guys like Kevin Thill.” He took a deep breath and exhaled again, shaking his head. “I-I know they don’t all realize, I mean, I’m fairly sure they’d be supportive if they knew…I know Niall tries to make sure…” He trailed off. He shook his head again, “But, sometimes. The stuff they say. Or like, even just imply, really… I just. I get scared, Lou.  I get scared I’ll never be brave enough to do it. And then I feel-“ Harry’s voice broke again and Louis could see tears start to spill out of his eyes.  He continued in a barely audible whisper, “I feel so disappointed in myself for letting them make me feel ashamed.”

Louis sucked in a sharp breath of air at that, shaking his head.  “Oh Harry, Harry.” he said and he was standing up in an instant, tugging Harry up onto his feet and into his arms. He pulled Harry in as close as possible, letting him bow his head into the crook of his neck and cry.  Louis was so frustrated about how things were, so angry. It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t right!  He wanted to beat everything that was hurting Harry back with a giant stick and then stand guard over his beautiful soul until the world was a better place.

“Oh Hazza,” He whispered, rubbing a hand up and down Harry’s back as soothingly as possible.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault.”  He repeated it over and over, trying to keep tears out of his own voice and eyes.

After a while, Harry’s crying subsided into sporadic sniffling, “Sorry,” he mumbled into Louis shoulder with a apologetic little laugh.

Louis shook his head, pulling back so he could look into Harry’s eyes. “Hey.” He said in a stern whisper, “No. No, you don’t have to be sorry.  You have nothing to be sorry about.” He reached up and cleared Harry’s tangled curls away from his eyes, they had air dried poofy and ridiculous during the party and it was terribly endearing. “Listen to me. It’s not your fault that you feel scared.  You know it’s not your fault, right?  God, it’s so complicated, Harry, coming out, it can be so hard.” Louis paused and took a deep breath, trying to wrangle the multiple and intense emotional reactions he was having into coherent thoughts. It didn’t help that Harry looked like some kind of heartbreakingly beautiful angel of tears at the moment, his face salt streaked and soft in the moonlight.  Louis wanted to kiss his puffy eyelids and his cheeks and his cherub lips over and over.  But he wanted to talk to him first, “It’s really hard when it seems like almost everything around you has been telling you your whole life that being gay is bad.  I mean.  I know that you know, really, that being gay is ok.  That’s it’s _more_ than ok to be gay.  But, sometimes it’s hard to hold onto that, to remember it and know it all the way in your heart because of other people’s stupid hate.” Louis was holding on to Harry by his upper arms, squeezing as he spoke. He kept getting choked up and having to clear his throat. “but it doesn’t mean that you’re weak.  You aren’t, Harry, you aren’t.  Don’t beat yourself up for being human, Hazza. Don’t. I can’t bear it.”  As he was speaking Louis could feel his world sort of tip on its axis, like his mind had pitched forward out of his body and he was somersaulting off into space, up up and away from the earth again. Because of this boy.  Because he was falling in love with this wonderful boy. Harry had ducked his head again while Louis was talking and Louis took a deep breath, “Hey, look at me,” he said gently, lifting Harry’s chin with his finger. Harry’s eyes were huge and gleaming in the dim light from the house and Louis could see so much trust in them that it took his breath away. “We can talk about this whenever you want.” He said, unable to stop himself from brushing his fingers through Harry’s curls again. “Anytime. I will literally sit with you for hours and listen to you talk, ok?  I know it’s not easy.  I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone.”

Harry nodded down at him, a little smile on his face. Louis ran his thumb over Harry’s cheekbone and he closed his eyes into the touch like a cat.

“We can even talk all night tonight if you want,” Louis murmured, almost as an afterthought. “I told my mum I was staying over at Zayn’s.”

He felt Harry’s big hands splaying out over the small of his back and ushering him forward. “Christ, Louis.” Harry said softly, he walked backward toward the house until he was leaning up against it and Louis was cradled between his legs. “I like you so so much.” He whispered into Louis’s ear.  Harry was shaking his head slightly, as if he was in a little bit of disbelief about the extent of it. His words vibrated down Louis’s neck and Louis felt weak kneed and blushy and his heart was pounding. “And I don’t feel alone.”  Harry continued, urging Louis even closer, snug against him. “So thank you.” Harry said, his mouth still hovering by Louis’s ear. Louis’s breath caught and then Harry kissed him.  It was perfect as usual. A delicate, sharp torture.  Louis was sure he’d be in a boneless heap on the ground if he hadn’t been able to rely completely on Harry for bodily support.

“Lou?” Harry said after a little while. Louis took the opportunity to move his mouth to Harry’s neck, kissing along it as he rolled his hips against Harry’s.  They were both hard already and Harry took an audible breath at the contact.

“Hmmm?” That was about as coherent as Louis was getting at that point.

“I think.” Harry kissed Louis again, breath coming increasingly jagged as Louis pressed up against him more deliberately. “God. Lou.” He let out before stammering on, “I- ok, my parents are-are out of town.” Another little gasp. “Till Sunday?” He said that part like it was a question, “We-“ he pulled back, holding Louis off him by his hips and looking down at him, even though they couldn’t really make each other’s faces out in the dark.  Louis imagined that Harry was biting his lip, it made him bite his own.

“Yeah?” Louis asked leadingly, he pushed his hips against Harry’s hands, missing the contact already, but Harry held him in place.

“We could go over there.  If, if you wanted.”

Louis gave a ragged sigh and started to nod vigorously, “I’m nodding.  A lot.” He finally got out, threading his fingers through Harry’s hair. “In case you couldn’t tell.”

Harry laughed at that and pulled Louis forward and flush against him, rolling his own hips this time. “Fuck, Louis.” He said breathlessly, “I want- I want you so much.”

Louis gasped. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had an idea already, that Harry wanted him, but something about the open admission right then, the way Harry said it in his deep molasses slow voice, made something in Louis give way.  He felt semi-crazed with desire, maddened.  His hands were on fire to touch Harry, they itched with it. He wanted to run them all over Harry’s body, everywhere at once, skimming them all up Harry’s long long legs and his endless and perfect torso.  He needed it. _Holy_ _Mother of God,_ he thought.

“Now.” Louis groaned out, wrenching his body away from Harry’s before he was past the point of no return. “We’re going now now now.”

He grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled Harry after him, jogging down the steps of the deck and up the driveway toward the street. Harry followed with his mouth hanging open.

“We’ll text them later.  They’re definitely all drunk, they won’t even notice.” Louis said.  He looked up at Harry expectantly when they got to the road.  “Left? Right?” he asked.

Harry blinked a couple of times as if he wasn’t quite sure where he was anymore. “Right.” He said finally, smiling down at Louis with a fond and dazed expression on his beautiful face.  He was so pretty right then, it struck Louis right in the heart.

“Fuck.” Louis said, and he stopped in the middle of the street and turned into Harry and kissed him one more time, “I really want you too.”  

Harry just kept smiling down at Louis after, tugging on his hands a bit before they started walking again.  They went down the center of the street like that had that Tuesday, meandering a bit more this time and holding on to each other by the entangled tips of their fingers.

Louis’s breath was shallow and quick by the time Harry was unlocking the door to his house.  17 Rosedale Lane.  Of course even Harry’s address was lovely, Louis thought as they went inside, just like everything else about him. _17 Rosedale Lane_. He kept repeating it in his head as they crept up the stairs to Harry’s room, as if knowing this concrete piece of information about Harry Styles could somehow help him better understand both Harry and his own fascination with him. As if he could make this unfathomable fascination as concrete as 17 Rosedale Lane, make it something he could hold onto.  Like he could transform it into something more than just words that he repeated over and over in his head but couldn’t quite pin down, stop it from being a reckless thing that slipped out of his mental grasp and became bigger than his body.  Louis knew it was pointless to try, really.  His feelings for Harry weren’t manageable right then, they _were_ reckless, maybe too big to understand.  It made him feel breathless.

They moved through the house quietly, their footfalls soft on the carpet, as though they were in danger of disturbing someone, even though no one else was home. 

“This is my room.” Harry whispered, easing the door shut behind him.

Louis huffed out a laugh, “I figured.” He said softly, standing a little awkwardly in the center of it, nervously tugging the ends of his sweatshirt down over his hands. “Energy waster!” he accused inanely, pointing to where Harry had left his bedside light on.

Harry was surveying Louis from where he stood by the door, and he just shrugged and smirked, a wry expression on his face. His eyes moved up and down Louis’s body and Louis blushed.  He knew any second Harry was going to start advancing toward him, and it was making his hands shake and his heart pound. He loved it that even though Harry was younger and mostly like less experienced, he seemed so sure of what he wanted, so seemingly confident about it.  Harry wanted him and he didn’t seem afraid about it at all. In fact, he’d started smiling at Louis openly now, a little wickedly, closing the gap between them in a couple of steps.  Harry’s smile made Louis feel dizzy and achingly happy, like his swollen heart was lodged in his throat, and he couldn’t help but grin dopily back up at him.

Harry rested his hands on Louis’s waist, tugging him in. Their stomachs bounced against each other lightly in a way that made Louis feel almost giddy and he had to smother a giggle because of it.  He sighed deeply and reached up, threading his fingers through Harry’s hair and guiding his head down until their lips met. _Oh_. Up until that point, the tension had made everything they did seem sluggish and slow, like their overwhelming desire had lulled their brains half asleep and it was making them too stupid to move at regular human speeds. But this kiss shattered that for Louis.  It electrified him, sent a pulse right to his groin, obliterating whatever leaking dam he’d been using to hold back his longing for Harry on the walk over.  For the second time that night, he felt something inside him give way, and he needed to be touching Harry, all of him, right then, as soon as possible.  _Skin, skin, more skin, please. Skin on skin would be best._

Louis moaned into the kiss and spun them around so that Harry’s back was to his bed.  He walked Harry toward it, stumbling and kissing him frantically as they moved, pushing Harry down onto the bed once his legs were up against it. Louis crawled right on top of him, straddling his hips, his hands still tangled up in Harry’s hair. 

“Hazza…Hazza” He whispered, hoarsely, kissing the shell of Harry’s ear and down his throat before leaning back so he could get a good look at Harry beneath him.

Harry was smudgy and gorgeous in the dim incandescent light from the lamp on his nightstand, his eyelashes so dark and his lips so perfectly shaped. He looked almost drugged with desire, eyes at half-mast, jaw slack.

“Damn it, Harry” Louis breathed out, “you are so fit. So fit. So fucking beautiful.”  He grabbed the bottom of Harry’s shirt and quickly divested him of it, running his hands all over the expanse of torso it revealed, reveling in the smooth warm heat of Harry’s skin. “God.” He groaned, “So fit.” He quickly found Harry’s mouth again, grinding against him as they kissed. 

Harry he let out a strangled moan of his own as Louis moved his lips to his neck, nipping at his pulse point and reaching down to palm him through his jeans. “Jesus Christ, Lou.” Harry panted, arching up into the touch with a slight shudder.  He started grabbing at Louis’s hoodie, yanking it down from his shoulders and collapsing back against the bed with a noise of frustration, when he couldn’t get it all the way off. 

Louis chuckled a little, as he continued to kiss Harry’s body, moving his lips over Harry’s collarbones and down his sternum, before he leaned back to sit on Harry’s thighs again, removing the offending item of clothing for him.

Harry looked up at him with a half smile, “Shirt too, please. Shirt too.” He said, pulling on the hem with demanding hands. Louis laughed and grabbed his t-shirt in the middle of his upper back, yanking it forward and off over his head before dropping it on the floor next to the bed.  When he made eye contact with Harry again he lost his breath.  Harry was staring up at him wonderingly, almost in awe, his eyes tender and wide.  He ran his long fingers up Louis forearms to his shoulders and across his clavicles, tracing the lines of his tattoos with a look of combined fascination and lust.  

Louis closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat.  His upper body was completely covered in goose bumps, hair raised where Harry’s fingertips had trailed over his skin. He shivered. One of Harry’s hands snaked around to the back of Louis’s neck, his fingers running over the short hairs at the nape of it before he grasped tightly and pulled Louis toward him, shaking his head as he did so, “God, Louis,” he whispered conspiratorially, when their mouths were nearly touching, “you’re so hot, it almost makes me feel deranged.”  Louis snorted in delight, half in disbelief and half in recognition. They both started to shake in silent laughter at the absurdity of it all, laughing right into a kiss that turned serious as it deepened.  Their hips rocked together in a slow rhythm and Louis shuddered at the friction, achingly hard in his trousers.  Harry’s hands slid down to Louis’s ass and he squeezed the swell of it with a moan, sending another shock of desire coursing through Louis’s veins. “Fuck, Harry.” He ground out with a ragged sigh, “Fuck. Want you. Want you so much.” He was so turned on, he really _was_ deranged. They’d shifted positions so Louis was cradled between Harry’s thighs and he went up on his knees, glancing up for permission before setting about to undo Harry jeans, tugging them down just far enough so he could finally get a hand on Harry’s cock. 

Harry breath caught and he gave a low moan as Louis’s hand wrapped around him in his boxers, stroking him several times before freeing him his underwear.  Louis bit his lip at the sight of Harry, relishing the velvety feel of his skin under his hand.  Harry was hard, so hard, and his breath was already coming quick and short, Louis didn’t know how long he’d last.  He looked up at Harry’s face to make an assessment, and he cursed under his breathe at what he saw. Harry’s curls were plastered to his forehead with sweat, his cheeks a mottled pink and his eyes were screwed up, tightly shut in a contorted expression of pleasure. 

“Christ, you’re big, Harry,” Louis murmured, turning his attention back to where his hand continued to stroke Harry’s cock.

“Lou,” Harry moaned out, almost in protest, his hips bucking up at Louis’s words.

“Just the truth, love,” Louis murmured, smirking.  He lowered his head to take Harry in his mouth, bobbing a few times before Harry was pulling at his hair in futile warning and then seizing up and shuddering as he came down Louis’s throat, moaning his name again as he did.

It seemed like Harry had barely had time to recover from his orgasm before he was wriggling all the way out of his clothes for better mobility and then manhandling Louis, pawing him all over and making Louis laugh breathlessly at his urgency. He dropped Louis onto the bed on his back with a bounce and made quick work of his trousers and pants, tossing them away carelessly before staring reverently at Louis’s cock.  It was curved up against Louis’s stomach, hard and thick and aching. 

“You’re golden everywhere.” Harry said, his voice hushed and marveling, his eyes like stars as he reached for Louis. Louis let out a tortured combination of laugh, moan, and sob at that.  How was he supposed to prevent himself from feeling so much for Harry, from already being maybe more than half way in love with him, when he said ridiculous things like that in that insanely endearing tone of voice?

Harry kissed down Louis’s body as he stroked Louis’s cock.  He seemed particularly intent on mapping the entirety of Louis’s little tummy with his mouth, pressing his face into its softness while smiling. “Louis Louis Louis Louis” he kept saying Louis name between every kiss, making Louis giggle at him for being adorable and squirm because having Harry’s hand on him was driving him increasingly mad. It was so completely wonderful, it was cruelty.

“Oh god.” Louis groaned out in a deep rasp, his hands fisting in the covers, as Harry licked a stripe up the underside of his dick at last. Louis’s eyes opened just long enough to see Harry take him into his mouth and the sight and feel of it was so erotic that he threw his head back against the bed in response, covering his face with one of his arms like he was a Victorian lady, post-swoon on a fainting couch.  He moaned as he entwined his free hand into the silk of Harry’s hair.

“Hazza, Hazza,” He babbled, trying not to writhe and buck as Harry slowly sucked him off. The lush feel of Harry’s mouth on him was making a molten pool of warmth build in his stomach, all of his nerves were buzzing and he could hear his blood rushing past his ears, singing. “I’m close. I’m so close.”

Harry pinned Louis’s hips in place against the bed with his giant hands and took him all the way down, once, twice, and then Louis was coming hard with a muffled groan, pleasure ripping through his whole body and curling his toes.

He lay panting on the bed, his heart racing and Harry peered up at him from between his legs, looking proud and happy and far more mentally functional than Louis felt at that moment. Louis gestured to Harry and he crawled up his body and tucked Louis into his side, kissing him gently all over his face as Louis continued to babble incoherently, “so good, Hazza, so good.” Louis sucked in a breath, shaking his head. “So _good_.” But even through his post sex haze he was also thinking, _where_? Where had Harry learned to do that? It wasn’t just kissing now, Harry was good at blowjobs too. Decidedly good.  Was he some kind of sex prodigy? Louis doubted that, obviously, but he couldn’t help but feel jealous of this other individual Harry had previously had sex with and kind of hope it was the case. 

Harry just nodded along with him in agreement, running his hands gently over Louis’s body as he came down from his orgasm.  Any thoughts Louis was having about Harry’s mysteriously acquired blowjob skills where quickly forgotten when their eyes met and Harry’s looked so bright they practically sparkled.  He looked lit from up within by joy and it was amazing, the most beautiful thing. Any trace of Harry’s preoccupation from earlier in the night had disappeared, right now he was purely and unabashedly happy and Louis felt awed by it, awed by Harry and his wide-open heart and staggered by how much he felt for him.  Louis was overwhelmed with emotion, it was clogging up his throat and there were actual tears pricking at the back of his eyes. He pressed his face into Harry’s neck to hide it. 

_I love you_. _I love you. I love you_. He thought, the words racing through his head again and again. He was a little surprised by his reaction to this phenomenon, this situation where his brain kept declaring love for Harry over and over as they cuddled together on the bed. Louis didn’t panic or try to talk himself out of it, he knew, right then, that it was true.  He was completely in love with Harry. It was undeniable and Louis was no longer interested in denying it to himself at all. He was sure that a more rational actor, some kind of impartial and most likely older observer, would try to tell him he was just infatuated at this point, consumed by Harry, sure, but not in love with him.  They would tell him that it wasn’t quite love yet, couldn’t be, it was too soon and Louis was too young to know the difference.  But Louis knew that was wrong. He could feel it in his bones that this was real.  His love for Harry was like a soft glowing light that had suffused through his entire body, it made him ache. The gravity of the realization, of the love itself, took his breath away and made his heart pound.  It made him feel painfully present and alert, as if he were living fully in the moment for the first time in his life. He looked at his hand where it lay trembling on Harry’s chest and he pressed it further into Harry’s skin, biting his lip over a small smile.  He was touching Harry, now. Harry, who was real.  Harry, who he loved.

 “Cold.” He whispered, after a minute or two, his emotions finally somewhat manageable. He smiled as Harry chuckled and his body shook beneath him.

“Yes,” Harry said, yawning through his laughter, “Well, let’s get under the covers then, shall we?” He scooped Louis up and maneuvered them both quickly under the blankets before leaning over to switch off the lamp. 

“No more energy wasting.” He said sleepily.

“No,” Louis said, smiling more as Harry’s long body curled around him from behind, their lower legs tangling, “Sleep.”

Harry hummed in agreement and dropped a kiss on Louis’s shoulder, sparking a renewed ache of happiness in his heart, “Night, Lou.”

“Night.” Louis said.

Louis lay awake for a little while longer, watching light track across the room as a car drove by. _Oh Hazza_ , he thought rather moonily, squeezing Harry’s hand, _you stupid wonderful boy, you made me love you_. Louis wondered for a bit about how long it would before he got to tell Harry and if Harry might possibly already love him back, and he was filled with an achy hope when he finally drifted off to sleep


	12. Chapter 12

It wasn’t until the next morning as Harry stood over the stove with a spatula in hand, frying up some bacon for breakfast in his boxers, that Louis noticed his extra nipples.  Or at least acknowledged that he had noticed them, anyway.

Harry had woken up hours before.  He’d been aggravatingly wide-awake and alert just after 6:00 am, unable to go back to sleep.  He just lay there, propped up on some pillows, looking at Louis curled up and sound asleep beside him. In the dim blue-gray cast of the pre-dawn light, the contrast between Louis’s washed out skin and his jet-black hair, sooty eyelashes, and the dark, finely wrought lines of his tattoos made it almost look like he’d been drawn into the bed next to Harry in pen and ink. He looked breathtakingly beautiful, as always, and Harry’s hands itched to reach out and touch him. To trace the contours of his face with his fingertips, to feel Louis’s skin under his hands again.  But he held himself back, biting his lip, he just kept watching Louis sleep.

Harry felt less sure of himself, now that it was morning.  A little uncertain and insecure, and his mind just wouldn’t stop racing. It was coming from two fronts. For one thing, as it turned out, Harry was in love with Louis.  He knew it for sure now. He’d known it since they’d talked the night before, in the darkness out on Kevin Thill’s back porch. He still felt sort of dazed by how wonderful Louis had been, how supportive he was in just the right way.  It made Harry feel so much for him, so much that he couldn’t quite grasp the full extent of it, couldn’t keep up with the way it kept expanding outward inside of him.  How could it be happening that this person that he’d been so enamored of from afar, for so many years, was turning out to be better than he could have possibly hoped for?  It didn’t seem like something that the universe allowed, things weren’t supposed to work out so well.  Wasn’t it normally that, in real life, you got to know the person and it was like “oops turns out you’re a stuck up twat ‘cause you’re so good looking.” Or “wowwwww you are boring as fuck and maybe a little slow, sorry.” Those scenarios couldn’t have been further from what it was like getting to know Louis.  For Harry, getting to know Louis had meant getting to love him. It was that simple. Louis was hot, that he’d already known, and he was magnetic, that he’d also known, but he was also brilliantly, bitingly funny and most importantly, kind.  And it was the kindness, the big, huge hearted, almost fiercely supportive kindness that felled Harry the most.  He was utterly gone for Louis.  And while he felt fairly certain that Louis felt something back, probably more than fairly certain, he was uneasy, not knowing exactly what.  What if Louis didn’t want the same things? Would Harry be able to cope with that?

The other source of Harry’s discomfort was that, while he wasn’t completely virginal, thanks to Evan Shervinski’s much more finely tuned gaydar at football camp the summer before (Harry would never have expected, but suddenly Evan was pushing him up against the lockers after everyone else had left the changing room at the end of the day, kissing him surprisingly gently but with obvious intent), he’d had fairly limited sexual experience up to that point.  He’d been so high off of the realization that he was in love the night before, so consumed by lust and emotion, that it had emboldened him, made him forget he’d only given a blow job and half before in his life, that he’d never woken up in bed with another person like this, that he’d never had sex. _Louis Louis Louis Louis_ had blocked all of that out. But he was certainly aware of it again now. 

Louis stirred a bit in his sleep and Harry pressed his palms into his eyes and sighed, _get a grip, you overeager weirdo_ , he thought. _God_ , he just wanted Louis so much all the time, it was absurd. He had only been halfway kidding when he said it made him feel deranged. Being in love with someone and also getting to touch them pretty much whenever you wanted seemed like something that only happened to other people, never to gangly, awkward, sensitive boys like Harry Styles. Maybe, if things kept going so well, if Louis wanted the same things, like Harry hoped he did, maybe then he would finally be able to watch The 40 Year-old Virgin without an underlying sense of mild discomfort.  (“I just, I can’t enjoy it all the way, Ni, I can’t. That could be me someday! That could be me!” “If you’re 40 and you still haven’t done it, I volunteer, ok mate? Now shut it. I think you know how much I enjoy Romany Malco.”)  Harry just wanted things to be certain, more clearly defined. He wanted Louis to be his boyfriend, but the thought of asking him made him feel light headed with nerves. He didn’t want to mess everything up by rushing things. He sighed heavily, adjusting the pillows so they supported the small of his back.  Louis snored softly.  Harry continued to worry quietly in the semi-dark.

By 7:30, he’d had to ease out of bed and to off the bathroom, the pressure in his bladder too much too ignore. When he’d returned Louis was sitting up in bed, blinking sleepily and casting about for his discarded clothing. Harry had felt a spike of panic in his heart, realizing then that he’d just sort of assumed Louis would be staying with him for hours and hours, if not until Sunday!

“Breakfast?” He’d croaked out quickly, hoping Louis wouldn’t notice that he was wringing his hands a bit.

Louis jumped a little at the sound of his voice, and then chuckled, “Oh, Hazza,” he said, voice scratchy from sleep, “I wondered where you’d got to.”

“Needed a pee.”

Louis nodded, “Right.  Well, yes. Breakfast, please.”

So now, Louis was leaning against the kitchen island watching him cook, swimming in a pair of Harry’s old sweatpants and one of his ratty t-shirts. He looked small and cuddly in the best possible way. He also had a serious case of bed head, his shock of hair ruffled and fluffed forward, and it had the effect of making him look like a sleep rumpled parakeet.  It was maybe a little distractingly adorable for Harry.

 “What’s the deal with your four nips, then?” Louis asked, gesturing toward Harry’s bare upper body.

“Wha?” Harry said.

“Your four nips,” Louis repeated, “What’s the situation there?”

Harry snorted and gave Louis a wry look, “The situation is that I have four nipples.”

Louis rolled his eyes, “Ok, but why?” he said, moving in a little closer to get a better look.

Harry shrugged, moving the bacon around in the pan, “Dunno.  Just happens sometimes.”

“Like Chandler Bing!” Louis said, voice a bright rasp, “You’re like Chandler Bing!”  Harry was leaning against the counter adjacent to the stove now, and Louis stood in front of him, resting his hands on Harry’s hips while his eyes flicked around to each of Harry’s nipples.

“Chandler only had one extra.” Harry grumped. Louis’s proximity and the way he was eyeing Harry up were making Harry’s heartbeat accelerate and he was slightly flushed and a little jumpy.

Louis smiled up at him, “Ok, fine, you are better than Chandler Bing!” he pronounced.

“Glad you said that.” Harry said with a nod, appeased.

“So do normal humans just have them disappear in the womb or something?” Louis asked, trailing is fingers up Harry’s torso, along his imagined milk lines.

Harry shivered a bit under the touch and shrugged, leaning away a tad to tend to the bacon.

“Yeah, I guess.” He said, smirking at Louis little dig about “normal humans”.

“Do you have a vestigial tail too then, Hazza?” Louis asked, “How’d you manage to hide that last night?” He reached out to grab at Harry’s ass and Harry yelped and jumped away giggling, feeling all floaty and heady, like he did whenever Louis teased him, whenever he focused all of his attention on him.

“I do not have a tail,” Harry muttered primly, as he turned the heat on the bacon down a touch. 

Louis was laughing, “You’re like half man, half pig, Harry!” he said it like it was his favorite thing in the world.

Harry shook his head, leaning against the counter again and crossing his arms over his chest. He huffed out an exasperated laugh, his pleasure at being teased obvious on his face, “Most people say cat.”

Louis twinkled at him, his eye all crinkly, “I’m not most people.” He said as he hoisted himself up on the kitchen island, directly across from Harry, his legs swinging just a bit. “And that’s really too bad, I can’t think of a more adorable word in the English language than piglet.”

Harry smiled and tilted his head to the side as he considered.  Nothing cuter was really coming to mind.

“Especially how my little sister says it,” Louis said fondly, running a hand through his parakeet hair, “Piiiigg-lut” he said, with heavy stress on the first syllable.  He grinned.

Harry felt overwhelmed with affection for Louis. There was a pleasant tightness in his chest from it. “Piiiig-lut.” He tried.

“mmmhmm” Louis said, humming in approval and nodding happily.

Harry was about to ask which sister when he remembered about the bacon and scooted over to the stove, scrambling to flip it around. 

“Now wait a minute here,” Louis said with a bit of a gasp, as Harry turned off the burner and started transferring the bacon onto two plates. His tone was delighted, like he’d just struck upon an excellent idea. “Wait a minute!” he said. He wobbled on his stool as they settled in at the breakfast bar on the opposite side of the kitchen island. “This is _bacon_ , Harry Styles!”

Harry started to laugh and roll his eyes and was about to preempt Louis and tell him that he didn’t eat the flesh of his own kind when Louis continued, “Harry Styles, half man/half pig, eating bacon! Does this mean my boyfriend is a cannibal?”

And Harry absolutely froze, wide eyed.  He felt a hot blush burn right up his cheeks and out to the very tips of his ears, his nerves so immediately shot that his fingers were actually tingling. _Boyfriend_. Just like he wanted. _Boyfriend._ Harry’s heart was pounding. He peaked over at Louis to see if he even knew what he’d said.

Louis did. His lips were twisted up in a tentative smile and his head was cocked to the side a little, as if to say, “Well?” His expression was so intensely fond and hopeful, Harry was breathless and dizzy from it. He felt weak, like his muscles had all been over relaxed. Louis turned toward him and took his hand.

He gave a nervous cough and then took a deep breath and looked Harry right in the eyes, his cheeks bright pink and his eyes shining, “Would you? Would you be my boyfriend, Harry?” it came out a thin, hoarse whisper, Louis’s tone of voice was a little embarrassed, like he was thinking “ _oh I am the_ worst.” and Harry thought he might die from not only being head over heels in love with Louis, but from liking him so very much, too. “I like-I like you so much,  I think you know that. And I’d,  I’d like us to be-to be together. If-if that’s what you want, too.” Louis stammered out, finishing faintly, but impressively refusing to break eye contact the entire time.

Harry was so completely filled up with happiness that it was doing strange things to his nervous system, he’d lost feeling in his wrists. He’d lost feeling in his wrists! And he was so overwhelmed with emotion that he’d also lost all his words. When he finally found some, they were only: _I love you. I love you. I love you._ And then, _don’t say that_! _Don’t say that yet!_ He couldn’t seem to locate any acceptable words, or get any words at all to travel from his mind to his mouth, so he just started nodding violently, jumping off his stool and crowding into Louis space, cupping his cheeks in his hands.  He blinked down at him, eyes searching his face. “Yes,” he finally managed to whisper, “yes. please.” And before Louis could say anything back, Harry was kissing him, slow and soft and infinitely tender, still cradling Louis’s face in his hands like it was made of glass.

The perfect feel of the kiss was hot and sharp in Harry’s heart and he felt a weight of lust drop into his belly as it deepened.  He could hear Louis’s breath get stolen away in his throat and he smiled against Louis’s mouth and then stroked their tongues together, unable to resist. The idea of making Louis breathless was like a fire inside him, his almost reckless self-assuredness from the night before returning, now that things were more defined. _Boyfriend_. He moved his mouth to Louis’s ear, kissing the shell and the delicate skin behind it, urged on by the way Louis shivered and shied away slightly from the intensity of the sensation.

“Want you so bad, Lou.” He whispered in Louis’s ear, his voice intentionally at it’s most deep and slow.

Louis swore under his breath, and his slumped against Harry, as if his knees no longer functioned.

“You are a terror, Styles.” He murmured in Harry’s ear, a smile audible in his wrecked voice, “Don’t think I’m not onto your methods.”

Harry giggled, “Are they working? My methods?” he murmured back, still purposefully slow and deep, but also gleeful. It felt like he was approaching danger zone levels of happiness, like it might not be safe for his body.

Louis laughed, “No giggling allowed! You evil mastermind, that makes it worse!” which of course made Harry giggle more and also experience a love and fondness explosion in his heart.

“Harold!” Louis admonished, swatting at Harry’s shoulder, “I said no giggling! Otherwise I really will tickle you, I mean it this time.”

Harry couldn’t help it, he just kept right on giggling, too giddy to stop. And then Louis’s hands were all over him lightening quick, his little paws somehow locating the most tickle sensitive parts of Harry’s stomach immediately. Harry was helpless with laughter, to the point where almost no sound was coming out.  He tried to evade Louis to the left and right, but Louis had him trapped up against the counter and kept penning him in with his non-tickling arm.  Harry felt weak from laughing and from happiness and he collapsed in a heap on the floor, batting his arms around in an attempt to thwart any continued tickle attacks by Louis. 

Louis followed him to the floor, sitting cross-legged, breathless from laughter himself.  “The Tommo never bluffs,” He said, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at Harry.

Harry had unfurled himself out of his balled-up defensive position and was now laying flat on his back on the cool tile of the kitchen floor, still trying to catch his breath. “I’ll try to remember that.” He got out, his chest heaving. 

Louis scooched a little closer, still cross-legged, and placed his hand flat on Harry’s stomach with a long exhalation of breath. Harry looked up at him and saw a little smile on Louis’s face, his eyes dark and soft, “Stupid, lanky, long-bodied boy” Louis whispered in a happy complaint.  He was looking down the length of Harry’s body, peering at his feet as though they were miles away. 

Harry could feel his skin buzzing with awareness under Louis gaze, he was light headed from Louis’s words, almost squirming with happiness, and more than half hard.

Louis trailed his hand from the center of Harry’s stomach down to where he was semi-erect in his plaid boxers.  “So lovely, Hazza.  I want you so much.” He said, roughly.

Harry let out a gasp and shuddered at Louis’s touch, his head knocking back against the floor.  “Lou,” he choked out, brokenly.  He reached up an unsteady hand and ran his thumb across Louis’s bottom lip.   Louis took a sharp breath at the contact, his eyes closing languidly, his mouth dropping open.

“Fuck.” Louis groaned.  And then he was sliding his body on top of Harry’s and kissing him for all he was worth, grinding slowly against him until they both came in their pants.

Later, after they’d gotten themselves all cleaned up and showered, they ate the bacon Harry had made cold, while watching reality TV and drinking diet coke in the den.

It was a dreary day, chilly and rainy, and it felt wonderful to be swathed various types of sweatshirt and sweatpants, cuddled up under piles of blankets on the couch.  Harry was secretly glad about the weather.  He knew it didn’t really make sense, but it made it feel like he and Louis were sort of cut off from the rest of the world, that they had no option but to remain inside without anyone else. I mean, it was raining very hard!  Louis, his boyfriend, couldn’t leave!

“Hazza?” Louis asked, after about three episodes of the Kardashians, rain still pelting the window. 

“Hmm?” Harry replied, sleepily.  He had been dozing off intermittently.

“Can I ask you some questions?” Louis asked a little tentatively.  He was tucked under Harry’s arm on the sofa, tracing patterns on the smooth skin on the back of Harry’s hand.

Harry made a noise of agreement.

“Ok, great.” Louis said, sitting up and fluffing the comforter they were under.  He turned his body sideways on the couch, so he was perpendicular to Harry. He kept ahold of Harry’s hand.

“Oh brother, where should I start,” Louis murmured, tugging on Harry’s fingers as he thought.  Harry felt a little more awake now.

“What kind of questions are you going to ask?” he said, adjusting his positioning on the couch as well.  He’d been in such a deep slouch, he needed to sit up to facilitate blood flow to his brain and then maybe he wouldn’t be so sleepy.

“I dunno…” Louis said with a shrug, “I just have lots of questions about your life.  I mean, you can ask me questions right back, obviously!”

Harry smiled lazily.  Stretching out the arm with the hand Louis wasn’t holding and yawning. “Ok, me first,” he said quickly, “explain to me the miracle of your perfect arse, please.” He leaned over and slid a hand under Louis’s bottom, squeezing gently.

Louis blushed a little and laughed, swatting Harry’s hand away, “That is not a question, Mr. Styles.” He squeaked.

“I’ll rephrase.” Harry said, giggling. “Where’d you get that arse, sir?”

Louis made a dismissive snorting noise, as if Harry was completely ridiculous,  but he was almost glowing with pleasure. He kicked at Harry a little and gave an exaggerated sigh, “I’ll go first.” He said, with an eye roll, placing a rather camp hand on his chest.

 “Ok, fine,” Harry conceded with a laugh, “we’ll come back to it.”

 “Do your parents know you’re gay?” Louis asked without any preamble.  He looked into Harry’s eyes.  

Harry smiled, heart aching from the concern and interest he could see on Louis’s pretty face.  He shook his head. “No. Not yet.” He said, he shrugged, beating down the comforter where it had fluffed up to the point that it had become cumbersome in front of him. “Well, I think they might have an idea, really.  My mum and Gemma at least.”  He laughed, running a hand through his hair, “Robin probably too, subconsciously, but I think, I think he’s the kind of person where it’s like “straight until absolutely proven otherwise”, you know?  I mean, not that. Not that he wouldn’t accept it, or won’t, I should say.” Harry started to laugh and rub at his eyes, he was rambling. 

“But Niall knows?” Louis asked. He’d wedged his feet under the side of Harry’s leg, and Harry found it strangely comforting.

“uh huh.” Harry said, moving his fringe out of his eyes. “Yeah. For about a year.”

“Well, that’s nice.”

Harry nodded, “Yeah. Niall’s…Niall’s pretty fucking great.”

“But you want to tell them? Your family?” Louis asked. And then quickly, “No pressure, if not…”

“No, no.” Harry said, “I do. I want to.  Especially now…” He gestured to Louis and Louis turned pink and they both laughed, “I almost told them one time this summer,” Harry said, shaking his head at himself, “Gemma was home and we were all sitting at the table after dinner and it was like, there was a lull in conversation and I was like, ‘just do it! Just do it right now!’ But then Gemma got a text and everyone was getting up from the table and it was too late.” Harry put a hand over his eyes, “My heart was like, pounding, just from thinking about doing it.” He said.

Louis laughed, “Well, that makes sense.” He wiggled his toes under Harry’s leg.

“What about you?” Harry asked, adjusting his fringe.

“When did I come out, you mean?”

“uh huh.”

“Well,” Louis said, he pulled his feet out from under Harry’s leg and crossed them, smiling as Harry frowned at the loss of contact. “I mean, I came out to my mum and my step-dad when I was 15. It had pretty much been assumed.” Louis laughed, “My mum made all these jokes after I told them about my obvious crush on Leonardo Dicaprio after we watched Titanic when I was little. Like, I hadn’t realized at that point that as a boy I was supposed to be into Rose or something. I was a little too like, obviously indifferent to her boobs, I guess, and like weirdly jealous that she got to be with Jack.” He rolled his eyes, Harry laughed, he loved Titanic.

“Rose! The key!  Get the key, Rose!” He said, doing his best Jack Dawson, which wasn’t particularly good.

Louis cackled, all crinkly eyed, “They seriously say each other’s names like 12 million times, don’t they?”

Harry nodded through his laughter. “Jack! These are all brass ones, Jack!”

“Rose! Jack! Rose!” Louis said, his giggles high pitched and excited. “We should do a drinking game sometime.  We’d have to do like half sips of beer or something, we’d be so drunk!”

“Yeah, it might be lethal, otherwise,” Harry said his tone grave.

 Louis snorted and threw his head back in delight, “What a good way to go!” he hooted and Harry felt so pleased.

“What a good film.” Louis said affectionately, as if Titanic, the movie, was his dear friend. 

Harry nodded, “Yeah, yeah it really is.”

They trailed off into silence and then Louis said, “Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh. Telling my parents, right.” He started to laugh, “Oh god this part is embarrassing, more embarrassing than having a crush on Leo.” Louis said, covering his face with his little hands.  Harry couldn’t stop smiling. He loved it when Louis told him things about himself.  He couldn’t think of anything better, it was like Louis was the most interesting person ever to exist. That’s really how he felt. “I guess Mark had found like, some of the gay porn searches I’d done on our family computer when I was 13 and I was too dumb to know about clearing the browser history. Mortifying.” Louis moaned, “So they were like, just waiting for me to tell them, really.”

Harry laughed louder at that.  “I’m lucky, I have my own computer.” He said, moving around a little on the couch.

Louis laughed in agreement and said, “Yeah, I think they’d always kind of known, though, anyway. Even before. And they were really great about it, they _are_ really great about it.” Louis started to laugh harder, “Mark’s dad, my granddad, in particular,” he was overcome by giggles, “he’s just this terrific old guy.  I think it was like a dream come true for him having a gay grandkid, so he could be supportive about it.  It was like he had FFLAG stuff on preorder.” He sighed. “I feel pretty lucky, I have to say.” Louis raised his eyebrows a little, then, “kinda sucks though, that I have to feel lucky about it, you know?” he shook his head and shrugged.

Harry, nodded silently, eyes wide.  He felt enormously and overwhelming lucky right then.  To have met someone like Louis, to be with someone like him.  Someone smart, and insightful, and full of respect for himself and other people. _My boyfriend_.  It felt like some kind of weird dream to be able to say that in his head and have it be real.  _Louis Tomlinson is my boyfriend._ No, it definitely didn’t feel real yet. And he suddenly had this embarrassing thing where he was looking forward to later when he was alone so he could like, stare in the mirror smiling while he thought about it over and over. Or he could like, roll around on his bed in a fit of pure joy a bunch of times. Probably he’d do both. He’d rather have Louis here with him, obviously, but it was really preventing him from having a proper freak out over the whole thing.  That would be nice later.

The next thing he knew, Louis was leaning over and kissing him on the cheek really quick, before settling back down into his cross-legged position on the couch, his eyes crinkling

“What was that for?” Harry asked, a little startled.

“You just get this far away look sometimes, your face gets all blank,” Louis said, smiling, “I can tell you aren’t paying attention. I probably shouldn’t tell you that I think it’s adorable, but I feel so happy today..” Louis’s voice trailed off. Harry felt a lump of emotion form in his throat.

Louis bit his lip and went a little pink, “How long have you liked me, Hazza?” He asked.  He stared up at Harry through his eyelashes and fringe, in a way that Harry knew was calculated to be as endearing as possible.  It was maddeningly effective.

Harry started laughing shaking his head. “No way.” He said, “No way.” He looked over at Louis again and laughed harder at how Louis had gone even more impossibly wide eyed, although now he was smirking a little in response to Harry’s laughter.

“How long have _you_ liked _me_?” Harry asked.

“I asked you first.” Louis’s eyes were twinkling.

“Yeah, but I think you know I’ve liked you longer, Tommo,” Harry said, with expressive hands, shifting his body around under the covers. “You go first, it’s only fair.”

 “Ok, fiiiine.” Louis said, his lips twitching in a little smile, “Remember the day with the football? When it went over the fence?” He asked.

Harry nodded, _obviously_! “When we first spoke.” He said.

“Right,” Louis said, “I had stopped to watch, because I” he cleared his throat. “I saw you.” He started to giggle, “and I was staring at you in your sweats when the ball went over the fence.” He admitted. “That’s why I was able to assist so- so quickly.”

Harry bit his lip, a warmth of happiness spreading through his body, he felt giddy again. “Really?” he squeaked out, his shoulders scrunched up.

“Yes, really.” Louis said, rolling his eyes. “So, I guess my answer would have to be that I’ve liked you since I first saw you, you moron.”

Harry couldn’t help but just sit and grin at Louis.

“Your turn,” Louis said, with his eyebrows raised, a little bit of a blush on his cheeks.

“I’m wearing sweats now,” Harry pointed out, voice full of mirth. “Are you feeling distracted?”

Louis started to laugh, grabbing a throw pillow off the floor and hitting Harry in the face with it.  Harry felt breathless with giggles. Oh, he loved Louis, he really did.

“It’s your turn, Styles.” Louis grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.  Harry could see the smile Louis was trying to suppress in his eyes, he could feel it. 

“Ok. Ok,” Harry said. “Just first…” he leaned over and pressed a kiss into Louis lips once, smiling into it.  His heart fluttering in his chest. As he shifted back toward his part of the couch, Louis followed him, curling his fingers into Harry’s hair and kissing him once more.  He somehow managed to use Harry’s neck like it was a tree branch, lowering himself down so his head was in Harry’s lap, his body spread out down the couch.  He tangled his fingers in the chains of Harry’s necklaces and hummed happily.

“Ok, I’m ready.” Louis said, smiling.  “Tell me how wonderful I am.”

Harry instinctively started playing with Louis’s hair as he spoke, stopping every once in a while to trace the arches of Louis’s eyebrows, to touch the post in the right one ever so gently. “Ok,” He said, with a big sigh, “Well, it’s a pretty similar story, really.  Except um, except I happened to see you about three years ago.  At the- at the holiday concert.” Harry took one of his hands out of Louis hair to adjust his own fringe and then cough. “You were wearing braces and some pants that fit, you know, fit pretty well.” Harry sighed again, Louis smiled up at him. “And then I was just _so_ aware of you. All the time.” He felt himself blush, his pulse in his cheeks, “I’d stare at you in the hall always.” He said softly, “and.” He rolled his eyes, and laughed more, “God, every once in a while Grimmy would mention you when he was talking to my sister.  And it would like, physically hurt my body how much I wanted to know you, Lou, you have no idea.”

“Grimmy?” Louis murmured, his breath shallow. “You know Nick Grimshaw?”

“mmhmm” Harry said, looking down into Louis’s shining eyes and nodding.

“I have more questions, this isn’t over.” Louis whispered, so quietly Harry bowed his head instinctively, to hear him better.  Harry nodded. “But…kiss me.” Louis requested softly, tugging on Harry’s necklaces, his voice a little strangled, “please.” And Harry did.  

 *******

Harry stopped by the Tank and Tummy to see Zayn before band practice on Thursday night. He’d been struck by an idea Saturday morning, while he’d been laying in bed watching Louis sleep.  Zayn had been pretty enthusiastic about it when Harry had explained it to him, Monday at school.

“Yeah, man! Yeah, I can definitely sketch something up.”

“By Thursday?” Harry asked hopefully, if things turned out right, he wanted to show the rest of the band before the weekend.  They were performing at an open mic on Saturday night. Harry was still on the fence about whether he’d actually sing.  It had gone really well when they’d played for Louis’s mum and his sisters, but this felt like an entirely different animal.  Thinking about performing in public still made Harry feel a little woozy, a little “vommy”, as Niall like to put it. It might just be best to stick with Louis’s original stage fright deactivation plan, after all. 

Zayn sort of scrunched up his face like he was thinking about all the stuff he had to do between Monday and Thursday. “You know what, yeah! I’m pretty sure I can swing it by Thursday!” He said, “I’ll let you know if something comes up, but this is pretty sweet, I’m like, excited to start working on it, actually!”

Harry had been relieved that Zayn had had such a positive reaction to his idea. He’d been a little concerned that maybe it was really super dumb and he’d just built it up in his head. It was a simple idea for a band logo for Wendy that had popped into his mind while he’d been tracing the lines of Louis’s tattoos with his eyes.  The basic concept was that the letters of the word Wendy would be drawn so that they formed the shape of a heart.  This could be in any color.  Of course, Harry had gotten ahead of himself and imagined them all being famous, and people having whole bunches of Wendy patches in different colors sewn onto their backpacks.  Or on their messenger bags or you know, whatever young people were using to tote their shit around at that particular moment in time.  Anyway, the part of the idea that really made Harry happy, was that you could nest the basic heart shaped Wendy design into another, even cooler band logo!  It would be a silhouette of Peter Pan, mid flight or standing with his feet set wide, however you wanted! And the Wendy heart, the text in white so it would stand out, would be on Peter’s body, right over where his heart should be! That was how Harry had possibly overenthusiastically explained it to Zayn.  He’d also come up with these ideas for potential album covers where the Wendy Heart was in focus in the foreground, and then you could see a punk version of Peter Pan out of focus behind it, as if Peter was holding the heart up to be photographed.  In his mind, Louis was the punk Peter Pan, obviously, but Harry didn’t mention that to Zayn.

When he got to the Tank and Tummy, Zayn had a folder with his sketches in them all set to go.  Harry was incredibly pleased with how well they’d turned out.

“These are brilliant! Seriously, Zayn!” Harry said as he paged through them, they looked even better than he could have hoped.  

Zayn smiled at him, nodding rather beatifically, eyes all scrunched up. “Thanks, mate.”  He said, he rummaged around behind the counter before producing a large manila envelope. Zayn rolled his eyes at himself a little bit, “ok, I know this could maybe be considered jumping the gun.  But like, I liked the design so much I just went ahead and had a drum decal made.”

Harry’s eyes widened. 

“I mean, my mate Anthony works at the Copy Buddy anyway, so…” Zayn said, running his hand through his hair.

“This is amazing. Zayn. Really!” Harry said, tugging it out of the envelope to get a good look at it.  “How much did it cost?”

Zayn laughed. “Like 3 quid.” He said, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you, so much.” Harry said.

“Those losers better like this shit.” Zayn said as Harry worked to get it all into his shoulder bag, being careful not to crumple anything. “I can’t even express to you how far superior this stuff is to their Pig Fat designs. Like…” His voice trailed off again, his eyes wide, as if he couldn’t even bear to think about their previous logo.

Harry laughed, “Yeah, I hope they like it too.” He bit his lip. 

“He’ll like it.” Zayn said, smiling.

Harry ducked behind his fringe, blushing a little bit. “Yeah?”

Zayn nodded. “For absolute sure.  I might be tooting my own horn a little bit here about the execution, but he’ll probably want to run out and get it tattooed on his arse.”

Harry laughed. “Thank you, again.”

“No problem.” Zayn said, as Harry backed out of the door. “Let me know how it all goes over.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah for sure.”

“Hope that sticker is on the drum on Saturday,” Zayn continued. “oh hey! Are you gonna sing, do you think, Hazza?” he asked.

Harry shrugged, still halfway out the door. “Not sure, yet.”

 “I hope you do, man.”

 Harry must have gotten a “vommy” expression then because Zayn just started to laugh, “Ok. Ok. relax, it’s really ok if you don’t.” He said, waving Harry out of the little shop, shaking his head.

Harry gave another wave and headed toward Niall’s.  They were practicing there that night because Louis’s mom “Needed a break from all the noise.”

“She put it as nice a possible.” Louis had said, his eye twinkling, “and I know she didn’t really mean anything by it but I’ve been giving her a hard time about it anyway. ‘S really fun.”

Harry smiled as he walked, thinking of Louis.  He really did hope the entire band would like the logo, but of course he was concerned with Louis’s reaction to it the most.  Louis didn’t seem like the type to be an under-reactor. Harry smiled and blushed a little bit anytime he thought back to how Louis had behaved right after he’d first heard Harry sing, all pink faced and incredulous and bossy and, well, incredibly hot. But you could never be sure about that type of thing.  Gemma was always so frustrating with her, to Harry, bizarre under-reactions to things he thought she’d be so excited to hear about.  Like, wait a second! Why exactly aren’t you excited about Evgeni Plushenko coming back for another Olympics!? This is high quality news! He’ll be so bitchy about all his quads! Why am I even having to explain this?? Or like, so does your total indifference to the fact that Mum and Robin brought Entenmann’s crumb cake back from America mean that you don’t remember or care about that time we went on vacation to Ireland in 2002 and that’s all we had for breakfast all week and we both were so devastated upon discovering it was not available in England?? Fine, more for me then, you weirdo!

So, sometimes Gemma didn’t react to news with the amplitude or type of excitement Harry was expecting and hoping for.  But she’d definitely come through with a completely appropriate level of combined enthusiasm and support when he’d called her on Tuesday night and told her that he was gay.  He had decided to ease himself into it, telling Gemma first and then his parents. The phone call to Gemma really couldn’t have gone better.

“Hello.  Why are you ringing me?” Gemma had said, rather shortly.

“What? I’m not allowed to just call?”

“Well you normally text. So, you know, it just makes me feel concerned.  That something’s wrong. That’s all. When I see you’re actually calling.” She said, “So what is it?”

“What if I _am_ just calling to say hello.” Harry said back, amused.

“Are you?” She asked skeptically.

“Uh No.” Harry said, his voice a little waver-y from his nerves. 

“Well then, what is it?” Gemma said, he could almost see her tapping her foot on the other end of the phone.

Harry laughed nervously.

“Jesus Christ, Harry, you are making me feel so on edge.”

He laughed more, wringing his hands a bit.

“Sorry, Sorry,” He said, he felt light headed.  He could do this. He could. “Um.” Another nervous laugh. “Ok, I’ll just come right out and say it then.” He paused.

“Harry. I swear to god.” She said warningly, when the pause stretched out a little too long.

“Ok. Ok. I’m just calling because,” he cleared his throat, his mouth was so dry, his heart was pounding, “I wanted to tell you that.” He took a deep breath, “I am gay.” He said. He had to sit down on his bed after the words came out, he was overcome by a strange sort of dizziness.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh.” He heard Gemma exhale deeply on the other end of the line, his heart skipped a beat. “Oh, I am so relieved!” She said, with a moan of happiness. “That’s it, then?”

Harry made a wordless noise of confirmation.

“Oh my god. Hazza! I thought you were going to tell me mum and Robin were getting divorced or something terrible!”  She was laughing a little breathlessly. “I suppose you didn’t want to do this through text though, yeah? That makes sense. Duh.  Sorry. Sorry. I just got so anxious.  Embarrassing, my hands are shaking a little.”

Harry laughed.

“Well, I am fine with this, more than fine with this, obviously, just want to make that perfectly clear.” She said.

Harry felt a lightness about his body, a small lump of emotion formed in his throat. “Ok. I’m glad.” He said, grinning and feeling just a bit awkward. He stretched out on his back on the bed, hugging his oldest and most beloved stuffed animal, Duck-Duck. 

“Have you told mum and Robin, then?” She asked.

“Not yet.” He said.

“Oh, me first?” She said, pleased. She started to laugh a little more, “Oh Harry, can I tell Grimmy? He’ll be delighted!”

Harry snorted, “Well, everyone loves to say I told you so.”

Gemma laughed, “Right, well, I might have had an inkling on my own, just so you know.”

“Right, well, _I_ might have had an inkling that _you_ had an inkling, just so you know.” Harry said back and she laughed more.

“Oh Haz, I really love you.” She said.

“I love you, too.” Harry replied, and he knew she could feel his smile through the phone, like he could feel her’s.

“Why now?” She said after a pause, a little bit of slyness in her tone, “Why’d you decide to come out now?”

Harry giggled into the phone, his smile so big now it was hurting his face. 

“Are you seeing someone, Harry?” Gemma squeaked.

He giggled more. “Are you?” She demanded. “Hazza! Tell me right now!”

Harry couldn’t stop laughing, “Yes. I am.” He finally said.

“Who?”

“Niall.” He blurted out, feeling a bolt of creative lightening, absolutely delighted with himself. Even more so, when he heard Gemma’s giant roar of laughter on the other end of the phone.  She was almost shrieking with it.

“Ok, very funny.” She said, gasping for breath.

“What, you don’t think I’m Niall’s type?” Harry asked, all innocence.

She started laughing again from that. “Of all the ridiculous things.” She said when she’d finally recovered a bit. “Who is it, really? Are you actually seeing someone?”

Harry didn’t saying anything, he was smiling too big again, heart so full of contented pride, just thinking of Louis.

“Harryyyyyy!” Gemma whined loudly, “Who?!”

Harry sighed, happily, “Louis Tomlinson.” He breathed out softly, feeling dreamy.  

“Oh. My. God.” Gemma shouted down the phone. “Oh My God!”

It felt so great to telling people about Louis. So great. He’d told Niall that they were officially together that Sunday on gchat and his response had been classic Niall:

I KNEW IT! I FUCKING KNEW IT! YOU OWE ME! YOU OWE ME SO BAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM GOING TO PUSH YOU INTO ALL THE PLANTS, HARRY! ALL OF THEM.

Harry rolled on to his stomach, still grinning, Duck-Duck clutched under his arm.  Telling Gemma was even better than telling Niall though. This was possibly the best reaction he’d ever gotten out of Gemma his entire life. 

“Grimmy is gonna die! He’ll absolutely die.” It was sort of like she wasn’t even talking to Harry any more at that point, just herself. He listened to her murmur for a bit before she finally seemed to remember there was someone else on the phone with her. “So, wait, are you telling them soon? Mum and Robin?” She asked.

“mmhmm.” Harry breathed out. “Friday.”

“So you’ve planned it out?”

“Sort of,” Harry said, he rolled onto his back again and started throw Duck-Duck into the air, “We’re having dinner together, mum wanted to specifically, because I’ve been so busy with footy and Wendy lately.”

“Wendy?” Gemma asked in a what the fuck is that tone of voice.

“My band.”

“You’re in a band now?” She sounded mostly surprised and a little delighted.

“I thought I told you.”

“No. You did not.”

“Oh ok, well, Niall and I are in a band with Louis and his friend Liam.” Harry said, “we’re called Wendy, and we’re playing at Battle of the Bands.”

“Are you the singer? You’re playing at Battle? Isn’t that soon?” She asked, in rapid succession.

Harry laughed, “Yes, I’m singing. Well, I’m hoping I’ll be brave enough to sing by then.  They pushed in back to December this year.” He explained.

“Will I be home in time?” She asked, he could hear that she was putting on mascara by the way her voice sounded, like she wasn’t able to move all of her facial muscles.

“It’s on the 18th.” He accidentally threw Duck-Duck up in the air with too much force and he ricocheted back down off the ceiling faster than Harry could react, hitting him squarely in the chest and then bouncing onto the floor.

“Yes! I will be. I will be.” He heard her put the mascara wand back in the tube with a soft thwunking noise. “It’ll be ok, you know.” She said. “Telling mum and Robin.”

“Yeah,” He said, softly, he felt a nervous energy building inside of him again, his heart rate picking up a bit. “I do know.  I know.”

“I know,” She said, he could hear the soft smile in her voice, “Easy for me to say.” She spritzed something in the air, some kind of scent probably. “If mum starts to cry, it’s just because she feels so happy you trusted her enough to tell her.”

Harry smiled, that was accurate.

“They love you, just like I do, Hazza.” He could hear her struggling to fasten on a bracelet now, he imagined the phone was smushed between her chin and her shoulder. “I’m really happy for you, ok? And I appreciate you telling me. A lot.”

“Thanks Gems.” He said. And he missed her sharply just then, hearing her get ready over the phone.  It reminded him of when he was younger and he’d sit with her in her room while she brushed her hair and she’d tell him her plans.  Like how when she was older, she was going get herself an old fashioned vanity and sit in front of it with all of her jewelry, which she referred to as her “jewels”, spread out before her on a tray and then she’d try each item on one by one while wearing monogrammed silk pajamas. Not all of her plans were so frivolous, but all of them were similarly fantastic, Gemma had been heartily disappointed not to be the first to see the giant squid alive in the wild.

“Alright, well, I told Dana I’d a get a drink with her, so I gotta go.” She said, “But let me know how it goes, yeah?”

“Ok. I will. Got your jewels on, Gems?” He asked, like he always used to.

 “Completely draped in them.”

“I love you.” He said.

“I love you too. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye.” He lay on his bed for a while after that, feeling a little wistful and staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Louis and about telling his parents and wishing that Duck-Duck hadn’t fallen onto the floor because he felt too lazy to lean down and get him even though he still wanted something to hug.  Instead, he sent Louis a text message to let him know he’d told Gemma and that it had gone really well. Louis’s response was almost instantaneous and very heavily laden with happiness emoticons.  Harry was thinking about it and smiling, as he trotted down the steps to Niall’s basement that Thursday afternoon.  He really did hope his boyfriend would like the designs.

 ******

Harry went over to Louis’s around 1:00pm on Saturday, so they could be alone together before the rest of the band got there for pre-performance rehearsal. Louis was at his drums, practicing with his eyes closed when Harry got there, and Harry was able to observe him undetected in the doorway for a little while.  Louis had been so excited about the new Wendy designs on Thursday.  He had enthusiastically stuck the decal on the bass drum right away and then smiled his crinkly-eyed smile at Harry the rest of the night. That smile that never failed to make Harry feel warm all over.  Right now, Louis was wearing sweat pants and a soft looking t-shirt with a stretched out collar, his feet were bare.  He was bobbing his head in time to the beat he was laying down and biting his lip, his soft dark hair flopping forward on to his forehead.  Harry was mesmerized by the way the fine bones in Louis wrists rotated, so smooth and fluid, each time he struck the drum.  Louis was the most beautiful, always.

“Hey,” Louis said softly, when he’d finished playing and opened his eyes. “You’re here.”

Harry smiled, “Yep.  I am.” He set his bag down on the ground next to the door and adjusted his fringe.

Louis stood up quickly and tripped a bit coming out from behind the drums, getting his feet caught up in some stray wires from one of Niall’s amps.  He rolled his eyes at himself as he regained his balance in the center of the garage, bringing the back of his hand up to his mouth to cover a sheepish smile. He started to giggle, “I got so excited to come kiss you.” He explained, still covering his face with his hand.

Harry was smiling so big his face hurt, he knew he should move in to kiss Louis in response to that, but he was sort of paralyzed by happiness, so he just stared at him instead. Louis seemed to be able to sense that, though, that Harry was experiencing happiness paralysis.  He tilted his head to the side, smiling right back at him, “Christ, Harry.” He murmured, and then he’d closed the distance between them, pressing up against Harry and winding his arms around his neck and kissing him once on the mouth, nice and slow and just right.

“So you told them then, huh?” Louis asked, leaning back and looking up at him, brushing Harry’s curls out of his eyes.

Harry sighed contentedly and nodded, eyes closing as Louis fingers twined deeper into his hair. He’d texted Louis right after he’d told his parents the night before, but it had been late by the time the dinner was over and he hadn’t had the time or energy to get into any specifics.

“Tell me about it in great and exhaustive detail, please.” Louis said, tugging Harry by the wrist toward the ugly green couch.  

Harry laughed quietly.  Louis sat on the far right hand corner of the couch, gesturing for Harry to lay down with his head in his lap, and Harry did, his legs kicked up on the other armrest.  Louis resumed combing his fingers through Harry’s hair once they were settled.

“I told them right in the middle of dinner,” Harry started quietly, his eyes falling shut again at Louis’s touch. “I’d been hoping I’d be able to tell them while we were making it. Like, I was like, oh I’ll just casually mention it while I’m cutting veg for the salad.” He laughed. “Nope.  It took about a glass and half of wine before I was ready, and then I just blurted it out, out of nowhere like a weirdie.”

He felt Louis’s stomach moving as he chuckled silently beneath him. “What did they say?” Louis asked, his fingers were resting lightly on Harry’s eyelids, it felt very nice. “I’m very proud of you.” He added, before Harry could even respond to the question.

Harry smiled, his eyes still closed, “They were great about it. I mean, I think my mum could tell something was up because she looked really relieved afterward, I guess I might have been a little jumpy all night. And then they both hugged me and it was sort of embarrassing.”

Louis laughed, “Tell me more stuff.” He said, tugging on Harry’s hair a bit.

“Well, I dunno, Louis. That’s pretty much it.” Something about Louis’s tone of voice was making him giggle, something about the bossiness of the hair tugging.

“What did they say, specifically,” Louis demanded, his tone light, “like verbatim. No paraphrasing, Styles.”

“You are so ridiculous.” He said affectionately, still laughing. “ok, I will try. Let me think.” He was a little distracted then because Louis had started to trace his eyebrows, and it was so nice and soothing and it made him feel a little sleepy.  He suppressed a yawn. 

“Well, ok, there was a bit of a stunned silence, you know, because of my delivery.  But then my mum stood up pretty much straight away and hugged me, I thought she might turn the table over to get to me, really. And she kept telling me she loved me no matter what and that it was more than ok.”

“Good,” Louis pronounced, “Although I suspect that was summarized and I know that part of it was definitely paraphrased.”

Harry laughed. How was Louis always able to read him so well?  It was like he just knew instinctively that Harry really wanted to talk about coming out to his parents, but felt a little bit shy about discussing it.  So Louis was extracting it from him in the most perfect, Louis-esque way possible. Harry loved Louis.  He wanted to tell him right then, he felt it burning his insides a little bit, like it might just burst right out of him. Like he could potentially just blurt it out without warning, like he’d blurted out that he was gay to his parents the night before.  But then a little bit of terror at the seriousness of it, at the weight of his feelings, gripped his heart, and he did not.

“Robin was pretty touched that I told him, I think.” Harry said, slowly, instead. “I figured that my mum might cry, but Robin got all like teary eyed too…and then I might have also.”

Harry could feel Louis smiling down at him. “I’m glad.” Louis said, in a warm, soft rasp. “I’m really glad.” The fondness of Louis’s voice made a lump of emotion form in Harry’s throat.

“Me too.” He whispered, thickly. The sat quietly for a minute, Louis just brushing his fingers through Harry’s hair again and again, lulling him closer and closer to sleep. Just before Harry was about to drop off, Louis cleared his throat and then broke the silence, “And did you –did you tell them about…about us?” he asked tentatively, his hands stilling midway through Harry’s hair. The question set Harry’s heart racing immediately, a blush staining his cheeks, his eyes opening wide. “It’s ok, if- if not. Really.” Louis said, his own eyes big and round as he looked back down at Harry, taking in his obvious discomfort.

“N-No, I-I didn’t. But-” Harry stammered.

“It’s really ok, Haz.” Louis said, calmly.

“Just. I know, but, just. Let me explain, anyway, please?” Harry finally managed to get out.  He was sitting up on the couch now, next to Louis, body turned in towards him, his right arm extended on the back of the couch so his fingers were almost grazing Louis’s far shoulder. “I was planning on telling them.” He said, earnestly, “I was. But then.” Harry was already flushed, but he felt himself turn even brighter pink at that point. He picked at the ancient corduroy upholstery with his left hand, “It seemed like they were already fussing so much. And, really,” He blinked at Louis and ducked his head a little, feeling so bashful, “I’ve-I’ve never dated anyone before. Ever. I mean… _obviously_ I’ve never had a-a boyfriend before. And I just knew that my mum would make the biggest most embarrassing deal out of it, if I told them, then. Like, _the_ biggest-.” And then Louis cut Harry off by kissing him, hot and urgent, pushing Harry back so he was laid out on the couch with Louis on top of him, slotted between his legs.

“God, Harry,” Louis groaned into his ear when they broke apart, his breathing heavy. “everything you say is so fucking endearing. I just. God. You make crazy, always.” Louis kissed down Harry’s neck, and back up to his ear, tugging on it a bit with his teeth. He took a jagged breath and then continued in a precise whisper, “I want to wreck you, Styles…I want to make you scream.” Harry absolutely gasped at that, overcome by the bolt of arousal that went shooting through his body.  He felt his cock twitch in his pants, he was already so hard, need was sparking through his veins and making him dizzy.

“Lou.” He choked out brokenly, his hands grabbing at Louis’s hair, trembling. Louis was slinking back down the couch, clearly seconds away from undoing Harry’s jeans. “Louis, your, your family?” He croaked, his eyes darting over to the door that lead into the house.

“Gone.” Louis said, matter-of-factly, offering no extra explanation and proceeding with the task at hand. “I feel like I’m gonna to die if I can’t get my hand on your cock, like right now.”  Harry moaned at that, biting his lip so hard it hurt. He was so turned on he felt almost delirious, but the determined expression on Louis face as he undid Harry’s trousers, his little pink tongue sticking out slightly as he worked to unfasten Harry’s belt, made Harry let out a giggle in spite of it all.

“Harold! Again with the giggling!” Louis said, smiling down at him, his eyes dark with lust but twinkling all the same.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Harry said, gasping and giggling and moaning all at once, as Louis freed him from his pants, stroking Harry slowly with a firm hand.

Louis’s expression turned slightly wicked and he quirked an eyebrow and smirked, “You’re gonna pay for it, Styles, you’re gonna pay for it.” He pressed the hand that wasn’t wrapped around the base of Harry’s cock into Harry’s lower stomach under his t-shirt as he lowered his head and took Harry in his mouth.

“Fuck.” Harry moaned out, his hips jerking a little as he was enveloped in hot wet heat, “Oh my god. Fuck, Louis.”  Louis took his time sucking Harry off, swirling his tongue around the head before sinking his mouth all the way down the shaft, his initial pace steady and verging on the torturously slow.

“Louis, please. God.” Harry breathed out, almost incoherent.  His heart was rabbiting in his chest, the beat erratic, as if his body was producing strange excess electricity all on its own. “Please.” Louis looked up at him then, cheeks hollow, his eyelashes gorgeous dark fans over the brilliant blue of his irises. “Fuck.” Harry whispered again, feeling as ruined as his voice sounded. Louis picked up his rhythm at that, head bobbing quickly up and down, sending Harry right to the edge.

“Lou, I’m-.” Was all Harry managed to get out before he came, hard, his orgasm cracking through him like whip, blinding him with pleasure and leaving him utterly boneless on the hideous couch as it subsided.  

Louis wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled down at Harry, crawling up and curling his body in between Harry’s and the back of the couch.  Harry just lay there, his chest heaving and his pulse still racing.

“See, no giggling allowed, Hazza.” Louis finally rasped out after pressing a kiss into Harry’s temple, and then they both collapse into them, Harry’s breathy and weak, as he was still recovering. He reached a shaky hand out to palm Louis where he was still hard in his sweats.

Louis groaned, “No time.” He said regretfully, “Li and Nialler could be here any minute.” He turned Harry’s wrist around to get a good look at his watch to confirm and then tucked Harry back into his trousers, zipping him up and patting him happily on the crotch when finished. Harry looked at him apologetically.

Louis chuckled, “It’s alright, Hazza, really. There will be other times. It’s not over, remember?”

Harry nodded, wordlessly, sighing and sinking further into the couch, snuggling Louis into his side.  Louis hummed happily as he toyed with Harry’s curls, kissing him on the forehand once or twice.

And again Harry felt a tug at his heart, a sharp, deep longing to tell Louis he loved him.  He knew it was early still, but he didn’t know how much longer he could prevent himself from doing so. As it turned out, not saying it made him feel like he might cry. Unable to completely reign in the emotion that was churning inside of him, he leaned in and pressed a quick and fierce kiss onto Louis lips.

Louis looked at him with a question in his eyes.

“Just like you a lot, ‘s all.” Harry said quietly, trying to ignore the way his heart was pounding, hoping Louis couldn’t read the depth of his feeling right off his face.

Louis gave him a small soft smile, his eyes bright and immeasurably fond, “Good. I like you, too.”

 ******

Harry and Niall had a football match against PJ Jacob’s Comprehensive Monday after school. Oswald wasn’t very good. Otherwise, Harry, who was definitely all in on effort, but who was also sort of a lolloping flailer, probably wouldn’t have been the starting right back. The team had only won once all season so far, but PJ’s was rumored to be even worse than they were, so Liam and Zayn and Louis had agreed to come support them in their best chance for another win. 

“Can we make a sign for you two?” Louis asked teasingly, when they were all sitting together at Molly’s after Wendy’s set on Saturday night. They were crammed into a booth in the back, having pints and greasy pub chips. “It’ll say, “Styles and Horan are the Wizards of Oz”!” Louis said smiling, “See how clever I am, Hazza? Bet no one’s come up with that before!”

Harry laughed and rolled his eyes and dug his elbow into Louis’s side and Louis squeaked a little and squeezed Harry’s hand where he was holding it under the table and Harry felt intensely happy. 

He hadn’t sang that night, in the end.  He’d thought he might, right up to when they’d entered the pub, and then it just felt entirely obvious to him that he simply was not ready for that, yet.  He’d experienced a wave a nausea, felt all vommy, and lost sensation in half his face, so he didn’t feel too bad about the decision.  Especially with Louis there, rubbing circles on his back and telling him it was alright, and he’d get there, and that Louis was proud of him, and to take deep breaths.

Liam had made a groaning noise about 20 minutes after they got to Molly’s, spotting some laddish looking lads across the pub. His eyes rolled up to the ceiling, “Great. Dreamt? Just great.  Are we on the list before or after them?”

“Dreamt?” Harry asked, coming beside him and looking at the list of performers for the evening.

“Yes, Dreamt.” Liam said

Harry continued to look at him blankly.

“Dreamt, Harry! Our main competition at Battle!” He covered his eyes with his hands, “Were you paying attention to my presentation at all??” He asked in a moan.

Harry turned pink, remembering the reason for his inability to focus that particular evening.

“They won Battle two years running, didn’t you go last year? Remember? They played Lips of Angel by Hinder?”

“Oh!” Harry said, “Oh, yeah.  Ok. Gross. Sorry.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“I keep forgetting you guys didn’t win, it felt like you won.” Harry said, thinking back to that night, even though he hated being reminded about this Aiden Grimshaw character probably more than anything else, ever.

“Yeah, well, we had the crowd,” Liam said, grumbling. “Stupid Mr. Michaelson is all stupidly into them. So what if they’re technically proficient? Like we aren’t?  I think it’s ‘cause Troy Boettcher is like secretary of the Key Club or whatever.  Hello? favoritism!!!”

Harry made a face.

“Yeah, ‘s so dumb.” Liam said, “At least we don’t have to worry about them stealing our ideas for covers, since their taste in music sucks so hard.”

Harry started to laugh, jumping a little when Zayn joined in next to him, coming up behind them with a pint in his hand. 

“Dreamt, what a joke” Zayn said, with a scoff and a laugh, “They’re like the bad guys in School of Rock, Haz.” His turned his expression grave and looked Harry right in the eyes before explaining solemnly, “They do not rock at all.” And then he started laughing more, “Seriously though, they blow, I hope you guys kill them at Battle.”

Niall came scurrying up next, a wild sort of look on his face, “Don’t anybody look, but Kiara Aussler-Shaw is here. Tonight! She’s right over there. Don’t look!”

“You fancy Ki, Nialler?” Liam asked, surprised and pleased.

Niall nodded, wide-eyed, a little confused. “You say that like she’s not clearly incredibly fit.”

“You know, I suppose she is,” Liam said, glancing quickly over his shoulder at her and then back at Niall, “But she’s Dev’s little sister, so, I kind of, you know, blocked that out or whatever.”

“Good genes,” Harry said appreciatively, thinking of Devon Aussler-Shaw and his very long legs.

Zayn laughed, “No fucking kidding, Dev looks like Danny motherfucking Wellbeck or some shit.” Harry smiled and nodded in agreement.

Niall looked a little disgruntled, “Like either of you two beauties should be complaining about other people getting good genes.” He said, looking nervously back over at Kiara. 

“We’re not complaining,” Zayn said, shaking his head.

“Just giving credit where credit is due, Nialler.” Harry explained. 

Niall made a grumping noise, “You know what I mean! I’m surrounded by freaks of nature! Ugh even you, Liam, you look like a young Roger Federer, you wanker!”

“Oh _even_ me? Wow, thank you for that, Niall!” Liam said, smiling, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Louis came walking over at that point, looking gorgeous, his hair in a perfect quiff, eyes rimmed in black.  Harry bit his lip.  Niall threw up his hands like his point had just been made.

“What’s wrong?” Louis asked.

“Niall is having a crisis of confidence about his appearance,” Harry explained. “An unnecessary one, I might add.”

“Should have worn my reindeer jumper,” Niall said, under his breath, shaking his head, “Makes me stand out.”

“Hey, Ni, you know what else makes you stand out?” Louis asked, tucking himself in beside Harry.

Niall just blinked at Louis.

“You can fucking shred at guitar, you have enormous and lovely blue eyes, and you genuinely like other people.” Louis said, completely sincerely, a smile on his face. “Ok?”

Niall turned a little pink and smiled to himself, “Yeah, yeah.” He nodded, “Ok. Thanks, Lou.”

“Just the truth, Nialler.” Louis said back, leaning his weight against Harry even more.  Harry slung his arm around Louis, pressing their sides together tight and feeling so infinitely lucky about his wonderful boyfriend.  

“So,” Louis said, looking up at Harry all twinkly eyed, “You’ll just watch and see how it is then?”

Harry nodded.

“And then we’ll reassess about next week?”

Harry nodded again.

“Ok, love, I’ll see you after,” He whispered, and then he’d squeezed the back of Harry’s neck with his strong little fingers before turning to go up on stage with the other boys.

Louis’d been right, it did make Harry intensely jealous, watching them perform without him.  He kept bopping his head in time with the beat and mouthing along to the lyrics to the point where he might have been distracting Liam.  By the time they’d finished their fourth and final song, all Harry could think about was next Saturday, when he’d get to be up there with them, an active and true part of Wendy.

Everyone had been able to tell that was the case, that Harry wanted in next time, even before he said anything about it.

“It’s ok, you know” Louis said, after they’d be discussing which order they’d do the songs in next week. “If it comes down to it next week, and it seems like it’s still too much.” He stuffed a chip into his mouth.  Harry rolled his eyes at himself, he even thought it was adorable that Louis was a slobby eater.

“I know, Lou.” Harry said, “But right now, I really feel like I can do it.”

Louis smiled at him, all the way, “I know that you can do it, Hazza, I know.”

Harry was thinking about that as he jumped up and down on the football pitch on Monday night, just before the whistle blew to start the match.  He could see Louis and Zayn and Liam scrunched together on the stands, sharing two scarves between the three of them.  They did not have a sign, but Liam kept calling out “Styles can run for miles” as loud as he could, and also “Go Horan!”, because he couldn’t think of a good rhyme for Niall’s last name.  Zayn sat there, looking affectionately embarrassed of Liam,  and Louis smiled down at Harry, giving him a thumbs up sign from the stands.  Harry did one back, unable to keep a goofy Louis-love related grin off of his face, and that’s when he spotted his mother, who he not been expecting to attend, about four rows in front of Louis and Liam and Zayn, a little to the left of them.  She had a shrewd look on her face and she appeared to have traced his eye line back to where the boys were sitting.

 _Oh boy_ , Harry thought as the match kicked off, _I hope I don’t handle this like a completely socially moronic idiot._

It turned out to be a rather exciting game, PJ’s going up 1-0 before half and then Oz getting an equalizer right at the start of the second. Niall broke through and scored what turned out to be the winning goal off a corner the 85th minute. So everyone was breathless and happy after the game. 

Louis and Zayn and Liam came out onto the field then, giving them both high fives and slapping them on the back.

“See, Nialler, another stand out element: Guitar, Eyes, People Liking, Right Foot,” Louis said, ticking them off on his finger.  Niall shoved Louis on the shoulder, but Harry could tell he was really happy about it.

Louis didn’t edge too far into Harry’s personal space, because they hadn’t had a chance quite yet to discuss just how out they were going to be in public. And Harry could tell Louis was also being sensitive to his worries about the other boys on the team.  But Louis did smile at him, in the special way that he had, where he seemed to just be saying “I like you the best, remember? You, specifically are my favorite, so don’t forget.” And Harry loved it, ate it up, wanted to stare back at Louis and smile dopily for days on end. 

“Well played, Styles.” Louis said, scuffing his shoe on the grass a bit, “Several well executed tackles on your part.”

“Thanks.” Harry said, a little blush mixing in with the flush already in his cheeks from the exertion of the game.

And then Louis lowered his voice, whispering so that only Harry could hear, “You look so fucking fit in those shorts, Hazza, makes me want to yank them right off you.” And of course that’s when Harry’s mum walked up, just as Louis words were sending a zipping heat to Harry’s groin.

“Hello, Sweetheart,” She said smiling brightly, “Hello, Niall, well done boys!  Well done.”

“Thanks, mum.” Harry mumbled, grasping the back of his neck.

“Yeah, thanks, Mrs. Cox!” Niall said, he looked pretty fucking excited about seeing how this was going to play out.

She turned to Harry expectantly. He brushed his hair out of his eyes and coughed and then gestured to Zayn and Liam and Louis, “Mum, these are my friends, Zayn and Liam and Louis,” He said, “Lads, this is my mum.”

“Hello, Harry’s mum,” They chorused, like little angels, Harry rolled his eyes.

“Pretty much know, Zayn, already.” She said, still smiling, “I’ve been known to pop down to the Tank and Tummy for a mars bar, on occasion.”

Zayn gave her a little wave of acknowledgment.

“Liam and Louis are in Wendy with Niall and me.” Harry explained, tugging on an earlobe.

“Oh, lovely! You’ll have to come over and play for us sometime. Harry never stops talking about Wendy, really.”

Harry rolled his eyes again and sighed, even though it was true.

“Ok, ready to go, H?” she asked, her car keys in hand. “Robin’s making tacos special because he couldn’t make it to the match tonight.”

“Oh.” Harry said, he took a breath, hand on the back of his neck again, his heart beating very fast. “I’m. I’m actually going to walk home with-with Louis, if-if that’s ok?”

He saw her look back and forth between them, and, as if he was confirming a theory she’d already managed to develop just from the start of the match, her smile spread even wider across her face.  Harry blushed. 

“You’ll be home within an hour?” She asked. 

“Only takes about 20 minutes to walk home,” Harry pointed out in another mumble, refusing to make eye contact with anyone and everyone.

“Just checking,” She said, her eyebrows the tiniest bit suggestive. Harry blushed even more. “Ok, Honey, I’ll see you at home, I’ve got your bag.” She said, handing him a pullover sweatshirt and kissing him on the forehead.  She turned to the boys, “Very nice to meet you all.” She said, making a point to make eye contact with Louis.

“You, too.” They replied. And then she was gone.

The boys all started laughing at Harry in delight as soon as she was out of earshot.

“Think she knows?” Niall snorted.

Harry covered his face with his hands as he laughed.

Louis yanked at his arm, laughing fondly “Come on, Haz,” He said, “We only have 20 minutes to get all the way to Rosedale, thanks to you!” Harry trailed after him, as he set off at a diagonal across the pitch, “Bye, lads!” Louis called out over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow!”

He turned to Harry, smiling at him with that smile again. “Let’s take the shortcut please.” He said, motioning toward the fence on the far side of the pitch, the one with all the ivy.  Most of the leaves had fallen away by that point in the year, but the vines were so thick, it was still quite private. “Meant what I said about you in those shorts, Styles, I’m going to need to kiss you more than once on the way home.” 


	13. Chapter 13

Molly’s was packed by the time the boys got there on Saturday night. Molly’s was never packed. Yeah, sometimes there were people like, sitting in the all booths, sometimes you might have to wedge a shoulder in to get to the bar or something, but almost always you could walk around freely, there was open space in front of the juke box, and you could play foosball without too much risk of stabbing an innocent bystander in the back with one of the rods with little foosball men on it.  Normally, walking the length of the pub didn’t mean saying “excuse me” like 13 times and avoiding twice as many elbows and mid-gesticulation pints.

“What the fuck?” Liam said, shouldering his way up next to Louis where he stood at the corner of the bar near the small makeshift stage. “It’s only 6:30!”

“Seriously! I have no idea, mate.” Louis said, scanning the list of people signed up to play.  He threw a look back over his shoulder at Harry, trying to gauge the state of his nerves. Harry had already performed with Wendy at open mic two weeks before, to a much smaller and more typical Molly’s sized crowd, thank god. They’d done God Only Knows first, easing Harry into it with one of his faves, and Train in Vain and Use Somebody, just like they’d done for Louis’s family. Louis knew he was partial, particularly to Harry and also to Wendy, but he was fairly sure it had been a damn good set.  Seeing Harry perform, even on the tiny cramped stage in dingy old Molly’s, was thrilling.  He had been wonderful, despite the fact that he’d also initially been completely terrified.    

“You alright, Haz?” Niall had asked, during their pre-performance band meeting/ pump up session, about five minutes before they went on. 

Harry had nodded wide-eyed, a strange cast to his pallor. He was holding Louis fingertips across the circle they had created with their bodies, tugging his arm up and down at strange intervals. 

“It’s gonna be alright, Hazza,” Louis had said, “It’ll be alright. You’re gonna do great.” He smiled at Harry, because he wanted to be supportive but also because even when he looked like he might throw up on everyone’s feet any second, Harry was staggeringly endearing and lovely.

Harry’d just nodded again wordlessly, once, twice, then he froze, turned on his heel and went to puke in the bathroom.  

“Guess he really was feeling vommy this time.” Niall said, bopping back and forth a little bit, a matter of fact look on his face.

Louis had laughed nervously and shook his head, and then he went to check on his boyfriend in the bathroom.

So now Louis was concerned, obviously, because this was significantly more people to get up in front of and he wasn’t sure how Harry was going to react.  He needed to get a reading on Harry’s overall level of vomminess, maybe get him to take some deep breaths and rub his back for a bit. At the moment, Harry was standing by a load-bearing pillar a few feet behind them with Niall, fussing with his fringe as he sort of bobbed and weaved to let people flow around him.  He looked a bit wide-eyed, but not too close to barfing, and Louis was relieved.  Even so, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was bothering Harry, and he chewed on the inside of his lip while he looked at him. Harry had been quiet all afternoon, a little withdrawn. Louis had kept checking in with him with his eyes and he could tell Harry hadn’t wanted to talk about whatever it was.  Louis sighed, he’d have to coax him into talking about it later, Sad Harry made his heart ache, it made it impossible for Louis to relax all the way.

“Ok, so Mitch Howard, Nell, and then us, that’s it?” Liam said, still looking around a little bewilderedly.

“Guess so,” Louis said, still shaking his head about all the people.

“Holy shit, lads!” Zayn said, coming up from behind them and clapping them both on the shoulders.  He was looking aggravatingly unmussed and sweat free, despite the crush of people. “Is Walter Furious going to be ok?” he asked, looking nervously around for Harry, his eyes full of concern. “This is a lot of people.”

“I’ll be alright.” Harry said, having made his way across the bar with Niall. His deep, slow voice was a little hard to hear above the noise of all people, but it resonated down Louis spine and gave him a shiver.

“I uh, I feel like this sort of my fault…,” Zayn said tentatively, looking sheepish and rubbing the back of his neck. They all instinctively bowed their heads closer together to hear him talk, “I might have uh, mentioned something about you lads playing to Grimmy yesterday, cause he came into the shop.” He said, he jerked his head back to the right, to where Nick Grimshaw was holding court in the far corner of the pub, talking animatedly with a beer in his hand, “and uh, he told like a bunch of people…” Zayn bit his lip and looked at Harry with big eyes, his hands in the air, “I didn’t really even think he’d come, you know? I mean, I mentioned it in passing! In passing. Like, ‘oh yeah, I’ll probably go to Molly’s on Saturday’, not like ‘tell everyone you know, Nick.’”

Harry laughed and shook his head, patting Zayn on the back. “It’s ok, mate.” He said, he brought a hand up to his forehead, “You don’t have to apologize for getting us a crowd just because I’m a wimpy baby.” He said. He took a deep breath, “I’ll be alright. I feel alright.”

And even though there was still something a little off behind Harry’s eyes, Louis could tell he meant it, and he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

It wasn’t until they were halfway through their second to last song that Louis saw Aiden.  He was leaning against a wall at the back of the pub, arms crossed, surveying things with his usual air of detachment. Louis had been thoroughly enjoying himself up to that point, high on performing and on watching Harry, who was electric and wonderful and who was bantering with Niall and Liam and the crowd like he was the last person on earth who would have any idea about stage fright. Louis had scanned the pub with his eyes, filled up with so much energy and pride, drinking in how much people were enjoying themselves, and then there he was. _What the_ _Fuck._  Louis thought. His stomach dropped and a hot chill zipped through him as Aiden pushed off the wall, smirking at Louis.  As if he’d just been waiting for Louis to seem him, just waiting, as always. _What the fuck is he doing here._

“This is our last song for tonight, thank you very much!,” Harry said, shaking his curls out of his eyes, hands on the mic stand,  “You’ve all been lovely! We’ve been Wendy!!!!”

Harry looked back at Louis, and then Louis counted them off for Gloria, and the whole time Louis could just feeling Aiden’s eyes burning into him.  He kept his focus trained on Harry for as long as he could, trying desperately to prevent his eyes from darting back over to that far corner of the bar.  He knew the second he did, he’d regret. But Louis couldn’t help it.  He looked.  Aiden’s smirk intensified when their eyes met the second time.  He raised a brow at Louis, shifted his gaze to give Harry an entirely obvious once over, looked back at Louis, and fucking winked. 

Louis had never felt such a white hot flash of anger in his life. He was so angry in that moment his hands were trembling and he felt like there was static in his ears. It was one thing for Aiden to try to wind him, he always did that, Louis expected it, he could handle it.  But something about him bringing Harry into it, it crossed a line.  It made Louis feel like he was going to launch himself across the pub so he could stab Aiden in the eye with one of his drumsticks and then tell him that splinters sucked and he hoped he had a nice ride to the hospital. _How does the stupid fucker know, anyway?_

“Piiiiiiiiiints!” Niall shouted over the cheers of the audience, as soon they were finished playing. He made a bunch of whooping noises and lowered his voice a couple of octaves, “Piints for Wendy! Pints!” He jumped around high fiving everyone in the band and a bunch of people in the crowd.

Louis busied himself packing up his drum kit, his hands still shaking, pretending he couldn’t feel Aiden getting closer, his eyes still on Louis, moving in for the proverbial kill.  Making it worse was that he could sense Harry’s gaze on him too, watchful and concerned, maybe even a little nervous.  It made him feel sick.

“Tommo,” Aiden’s voice came from the edge of the stage.

Louis sighed, he let out a little scoff.

“What?” He asked, finally looking up.

“How are you?” Aiden asked.  Harry was still lingering nervously on the side of the stage fussing with a microphone cord, his eyes tracking back and forth between the two of them. Louis wasn’t sure how much Harry knew about him and Aiden, but Harry was nothing if not perceptive.

Louis shook his head, “What are you even doing here?”

Aiden laughed at Louis clipped tone, as if Louis had always been the one who was a piece of work, “Visiting my mum for the weekend. I ran into Nick at Laab’s and he said you got yourself a new band, thought I’d check it out.” He was still smirking a bit.

“Yeah? Well, good job doing that.” Louis said, turning back to his drums.

“You’re better than we were.” Aiden said.

Louis just rolled his eyes, Aiden had been in the band for about a month and half total.  After Battle was over he’d only show up for rehearsals at his convenience. And “better than” was a massive understatement.

“Who’s this then?” Aiden asked, tone still smug, nodding his head toward Harry with a bit of eyebrow waggle.

“It’s just Harry,” Louis said shortly, glaring at Aiden, wanting to shut that discussion down before it even began. And that’s when he heard Harry wince and take a short, sharp breath. Louis’s head snapped up and he looked right into Harry’s eyes. _Shit._

“No, Haz-“ He started, but Harry was already shaking his head and leaving the stage, tears glistening in his eyes.

“Hazza!” He tried again, “Harry, wait!” but Harry kept walking, somehow finding the path of least resistance through the crowd and slipping out the front door of the pub before Louis could even get off his drum stool.

Louis cursed under his breath, leaping to his feet, Aiden entirely forgotten, tears stinging in his eyes. _Fuck._ He shouldered his way through all the people blocking his way to the door, feeling more frustrated than ever before in his life about being short and slight.

“Harry?” he called out, finally struggling out into the cool night air. “Haz?” he called, his voice wavering.  He shoved a hand into his hair, looking left and right and seeing no sign of Harry. _Harry._

And then he saw a forlorn figure, hunched over on one of the swings in the park across the way. Louis’s stomach lurched. _Oh Hazza._ Molly’s was at the end of a short street, next to the train tracks, and there was a small run down park built around some kind of war monument directly across from it. 

Louis crossed the empty street to the park slowly, wishing suddenly he’d thought to grab their jackets, also wishing he wasn’t such a thoughtless idiot. He tried to swallow the lump his throat as he approached Harry, it wasn’t working. 

“Oh, Haz,” He whispered thickly as he got closer, tears crowding into his voice.  Because Harry was crying into his hands, almost sobbing, and Louis thought the sight of it might make his heart break right in half. “Oh Hazza, I’m so-so sorry.” he choked out again.  He was directly in front of Harry then, and he couldn’t stand to see him so upset and not touch him, so he reached out and started gently rubbing his back, feeling almost faint with relief when Harry didn’t flinch away.

“It’s not what-“ Louis started, then shook his head, tears sliding down his face, leaving itchy trails as they went. “I’m really so sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. At all.” He sighed, his shaking hands still on Harry’s back, his voice unsteady. “I know-I know we haven’t talked about Aiden, yet.  But it’s- it’s not that I didn’t want him to-to know you’re my boyfriend.” Louis took another shuddery breath, struggling to figure out how to explain. Could he explain? “God, Harry, it’s just that I don’t want him anywhere near you. I don’t.” he paused again, still struggling to gather his thoughts, still struggling against the onslaught of tears. “Aiden.” Louis whispered, slow and measured, so he didn’t completely give into them, “Aiden made me feel so…just so… so _bad_ , Harry.  And with you. God, Haz, it’s the total opposite of that. It’s-“he took another deep breath, barely able to speak, “I cannot describe- You’re the most wonderful thing, and I am so so sorry. So sorry. The most wonderful thing…you make me feel so happy.” Louis felt frozen in place waiting for Harry to say something.  Hoping that he would respond soon in some kind of way, because Louis felt like he might die from the ache in his heart.

“Lou.” Harry finally let out brokenly, after several beats. His crying had subsided while Louis was talking, and he blinked up at Louis then, left over tears caught like diamonds in his absurd lashes. “Lou.” He said again, and then he beckoned Louis forward, pulling his face down and kissing him softly on the lips, damp and salty from all the crying. “It’s ok. It’s ok. It’s not what you think.” Harry croaked.  Louis felt so weak with relief he had to grab the chains of the swing with both hands to remain upright. Harry laughed tearfully, “Well, it kind of is. But, I mean, I’m sorry too.” He shook his head.

“No-Haz.” Louis protested.

“No, wait.” Harry said, raggedly, “let me-let me explain.” He took a deep breath of his own, shaking his head, “I just.  It was a combination of things, really.  And I overreacted.  And I’m sorry. I just.” Harry sighed. “I know we never talked about you and Aiden, ever. But I knew.  Like, I knew last year at Battle of the Bands, and I was _so_ jealous.” He gave a little laugh, “Like, full body ache kind of jealousy, Louis. You don’t even know...”

Louis blushed and felt a thrill run through him.  It never failed to bowl him over whenever Harry talked about how he’d fancied Louis for so long.  It seemed so improbable, so impossible, Harry being Harry and Louis being Louis.

Harry took another ragged breath, “and-“ he laughed again and blushed scarlet, “Oh this is so embarrassing.” He moaned, covering his face with his hands again. “I feel like,” Harry rolled his eyes, “I feel intimidated by like, the idea of Aiden, ‘cause, I mean, he seems so much like, _older_ than me? If you know what I mean.”

Louis laughed a little bit, feeling sort of like he might also start crying again, because there was definitely no more endearing person in the whole of the universe than his boyfriend, Harry Styles. 

“No, what do you mean, Hazza?” Louis said, lightly, unable to resist.

Harry punched him softly in the stomach with a sweater-covered fist, “Don’t make fun!” he protested, though clearly a little pleased, as always, to be teased. He continued in a whisper, not looking Louis in the eye. “I know you probably got a sense by now, but I’m a virgin, ok?” and then he buried his face in Louis stomach in embarrassment. Louis started to laugh again, silently, love for Harry pulsing through him, what was he going to do with this ridiculously lovely boy? What? Harry voice was muffled by against Louis’s hoodie, but he kept talking, “Alright? So. I don’t know.  It just made me feel like an idiot, standing there.”

Louis moaned again, guilt slicing through him, “Hazza, I am so so sorry.  I was the idiot. I was the thoughtless idiot.”

He could feel Harry laughing softly into his stomach, “It’s ok, Louis. It’s really ok.”

“You know I’d never purposely want to make you feel like an idiot, right?” Louis said, suddenly desperate for Harry to know he would never want that ever in a thousand years. “And you have nothing to worry about, you know that too, right?” Louis blushed, tugging at one of his earrings, “I love it that you are a virgin, Harry. I love it…I mean, it would have been fine if you weren’t, too, obviously.”

He was babbling slightly and he felt Harry nod into his belly, smiling, “Ok.” He said quietly. “I know.”

Louis let out a slow sigh of relief and he felt Harry’s smile getting bigger against his stomach as he did. 

“Hazza,” Louis started, tentatively.

“Yeah?”

“What else was bothering you today?” Louis asked, brushing his fingers through Harry’s curls.

“Oh.” Harry said, sitting back up on the swing, smiling with sad eyes. Louis felt his heart tug all over again. “Not too subtle, am I?”

Louis snorted, “No, I think it’s more like I can never stop staring at your stupid face.”

Harry let out a little laugh, “Well.” He shook his head, “This probably actually had uh something to do with why I reacted so strongly earlier, really.  S-sorry about that.”

“S’ok, what is it?” Louis said, feeling sort of stricken with nerves. 

“I talked to my dad today.” Harry said, voice soft, “He called.” He sighed and swallowed, clearly trying to control his emotions, “And like, I figured, I mean, I told the rest of my family, so. But then.  I don’t know, it was just like, a lot of silence, I guess?” He said, shaking his head, his eyes refilling with tears.

“Oh Haz,” Louis said, stroking his hands through Harry’s hair, “Oh Hazza, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” Harry said. “I mean, he didn’t like reject me or anything, but.”

“Yeah,” Louis said, “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“Anyway, so I guess I was feeling a bit emotionally vulnerable, earlier.” Harry let out with a sigh. “Sorry for being a baby, always.” he said, a laugh in his voice, but a bit of tears still there too. He scuffed his feet in the dirt beneath the swing. 

Louis felt like his heart was going to break all over again. He snorted in disbelief and then made a tsking sound. “You’re not being a baby, Harry, don’t say that.” he said. He tugged Harry’s head to his chest and buried his face in Harry’s hair, loving the clean scent of it and how soft it felt against his lips. “Not at all. Just a regular human-being having regular, completely understandable emotions, that’s all.” _And I love you so much for it,_ he finished in his mind. He kissed the top of Harry’s head and smiled, “Or, regular half man/half pig, I should say.” He gave a little laugh, face still deep in Harry’s curls, kissing him again, “A normal half man/half pig with normal half man/half pig emotions.”

Harry let out a watery laugh at that and looked up at Louis, his eyes big and shining in dim glow of the park light that lit the crumbling basketball courts behind them. His face was puffy and streaky from crying, but he still looked so beautiful that Louis’s breath caught, his heart stuttering. “Piglet.” He whispered softly, pressing a kiss into Harry’s forehead, his heart so full of love for him. Harry’s eyes fell close at the touch, his face still angled up at Louis’s, and he looked so vulnerable and trusting and perfectly lovely that Louis knew he was going to tell him then, he had to.  He couldn’t wait any longer.  He didn’t want to. He felt it too strongly, too fundamentally. He wanted Harry to know.  He needed him to. He needed to be able to say it whenever he felt it, he couldn’t live like this anymore!

Louis tightened his grip on the rusty chains of the swing and swallowed thickly, his heart hammering in his chest.  “I-I love you, Harry.” He said, quiet and slightly breathless, feeling a little dizzy, a little float-y, as the words left his mouth, like he might start laugh-sobbing by accident. He was heady with the fact that it was so deeply true. “I am in love with you.”

Louis didn’t know if he would ever be able to properly describe the complete and total glow of joy that spread throughout his body when he saw the look on Harry’s face after he’d finished speaking.  Of all the beautiful things in the world.  Louis’s heart just went soaring, soaring, soaring. He was definitely floating now, high as a fucking kite and completely in love with Harry and with being alive. 

“Louis,” Harry breathed out, voice choked with emotion, his eyes lit up so bright, absolutely beaming.  He was on his feet now, cupping Louis’s face and looking down into Louis’s eyes, his own filled with wonder. He gave a strangled laugh. “Oh God. Louis, Louis, Louis. I-I love you, too. I love you, too.” And then he was kissing Louis, again and again and laughing and then kissing him again, the tears on their faces mixing together.

They tumbled down into the chilly dew covered grass, laughing and kissing and saying it again and again and again, like they couldn’t get enough.  After a while, Harry propped himself up over Louis’s body on his wrists, hands on either side of Louis’s waist.  He looked down at Louis like he was the best, most wonderful thing in the entire world, his eyes shining with emotion.

“You are so beautiful, Louis.” Harry whispered, his voice hushed and full of awe. He shook his head as if he couldn’t quite believe Louis was real. “I love you so much.”

Louis’s throat and chest tightened with so much feeling he had to close his eyes. It felt like joy was radiating off him in waves. “I love you, too.” He said for what must have been the fifteenth time in as many minutes, still loving the way the words felt in his mouth, loving that he got to say them.  He reached up and found the back of Harry’s neck, guiding him down and kissing him again, long and slow.  Louis realized then that he’d never been quite this happy ever before in his entire life. _Oh, Harry Styles,_ he thought dreamily, as his fingers wove into Harry’s hair and he deepened the kiss, _This isn’t over, not yet, and I hope it never is._

 

 About a month and half later, Wendy won Battle of the Bands. It wasn’t even close, not really.  It had no longer really been a question as to whether or not they would, by then.  Not by December, when they knew they were good and were always getting better. Playing at Battle, watching Harry up on stage that night, prowling across it like he’d always belonged there, it just confirmed for Louis what he had begun to sense back in the beginning of November.  Back when Zayn and Niall and Liam had come tumbling out of Molly’s to tell them that they had a real gig.  A real gig!

Harry and Louis had still been curled around each other in the cold spiky grass of the park across the street, Harry’s lips working their way now Louis’s neck between murmured ‘I love yous’, when they’d heard them.

“They’re over there!” Niall’s voice came piping over, full of excitement, “By the swings!” and then he’d called out, “I hope everyone’s bits are still behind zipped zippers, because we’re coming over there. Right now!”

They’d just huddled together giggling quietly, pretending they hadn’t heard, Harry covering Louis’s mouth with one of his oversized hands.

“Did you hear me?” Niall continued, “Did you?” he bleated, “35 yards and closing, you jerks.” It sounded like he might have been walking with a hand over his eyes, and it sent Harry and Louis into increased laughter spasms.

“No need to worry, Ni.” Harry finally said, still laughing, “We’re both decent.”

And then the three other boys were standing above them in a semi-circle, casting shadows across Harry and Louis’s intertwined bodies in the light coming from Molly’s sign. 

“Well?” Louis asked, shielding his eyes as he looked up at them, “what it is?”

Niall and Liam both seemed to be almost vibrating with excitement and when Zayn had turned his face into the light, Louis could see that he was fighting a smile.

“Oh nothing,” Liam said, tone falsely nonchalant, ever the nerd, “Nothing important. It’s just that Zayn talked to Bev, and she asked if Wendy could play- just us, next Friday night.  An actual gig or whatever, so, you know, no big-“

“ZAYN GOT US A REAL GIG!” Niall bellowed out, not being able to wait through any more of Liam’s blathering. “A _real_ gig!!” He danced around, twirling in circles and swinging his arms about.

“Pretty sure you got it yourselves,” Zayn said, laughing silently as Niall continued to dance around. He was actually pretty light on his feet, Niall.

Louis and Harry had both leapt up immediately, brushing the dead grass off their bodies and looking at Zayn wide-eyed, eager for information.

“Well, s’pretty much it.” He said, shrugging, “She asked if I thought you’d get a similar crowd and I said yeah, so.” Bev Howard had opened Molly’s about 30 years before. She was short and squat and grumpy and everyone loved her. Louis had asked her once why it was called Molly’s and not Bev’s and she said that’s what her ex-husband had always called her and by the time they’d been divorced it was too late to change it.  

Louis just stood there shaking his head, still not fully able to believe it.

Zayn laughed, gripping the back of his neck in that way of his, “Said she wanted to talk to the ‘Little Leader’, so I came to find you…”

Harry let out a fairly delighted giggle at that and tried to poke Louis in the belly.  Louis swatted his hand away, but he couldn’t suppress his smile.

Zayn gestured with his head towards the pub then, and Louis nodded, and they all went back inside, quickly working out the details with Bev. 

Louis had first started to feel it then, that night, a building awareness that almost made him feel like his brain was getting bigger, like his mind was expanding.  It was this slow dawning realization that their world could get much bigger than it was, that it should get bigger.  That maybe Wendy had more potential than he’d have ever suspected and that Battle of the Bands might just be some place to start. That they should be looking beyond it, to the actual future.  It wasn’t that Louis didn’t care about Battle or want to win it, he did! It was just that he wanted more.  Louis was slowly coming to understand that maybe this thing that Harry had inside of him, that he managed to bring out in them all, the way the chemistry of the band came together, was truly something remarkable, something special.  It was like Louis could feel their horizons broadening every time they played a gig. Because there had been more and more gigs, ever since that first one at Molly’s.  Every couple of days it seemed like Zayn was shuffling up to Louis, hand on the nape of his neck, a half smile on his face. “I got you another one, if you want it.”  And of course they did, of course they wanted it. And every time there were more people to watch them, and every time they were a little better, and it seemed a little more real. 

Watching Harry bring the house down with their original song at Battle that night, Louis felt something else solidify too.  It was a different feeling building inside of him, this time filling up his heart, making it feel like it was expanding out of his chest.  It had to do with the future, too, but it wasn’t about Wendy, it was about Harry.  Watching as Harry hit and held a note, bringing his forearm down to his side and splaying his goofily giant fingers as he did, Louis was struck by it. He was struck by a concrete and thrillingly wonderful awareness that in whatever future he pictured, no matter what, Harry was there with him. That Harry _would_ be there, Louis was sure of it.  Or Louis would be there for Harry, either way, they would be together. Whether Louis went to school to become a music teacher or Wendy became regionally famous or Harry suddenly wanted to move to Baja California to study whales or none of those things happened at all, they would be together, they had to be.  That night, Louis realized that Harry had become essential to him, the most essential thing.

Three weeks before, Harry and Niall had played their last football match of the season. Oz had lost, as usual.  But it had been well-fought and exciting to watch and Harry was wearing shorts, so Louis couldn’t complain.  And after the game, Louis had gone out on the pitch with Liam and Zayn to congratulate Harry and Niall.  Harry had beamed down at him, picked him up and spun him in a circle while laughing, and then held his hand in front of everyone.  Louis had turned bright pink, flushed with pleasure, feeling as though his heart might burst from pride and love. 

“You two are so cute,” Niall had said, and Harry had grinned and swatted at him and told him to shut it.

“Your mum has 3rd shift, yeah?” Harry had whispered, turning back to Louis and bowing his head to get close to his ear.

Louis nodded.

“And the girls are at Mark’s?” 

Another nod.

“I’d like you to fuck me, tonight, please.” Harry murmured into Louis’s ear, a little smile on his face at the gasp it elicited.

They’d been working up to it, getting closer, and Louis had known they wouldn’t wait much longer, but it still sent a surprised shock of arousal right through him, hearing Harry say it out loud. 

Louis nodded again weakly, “Yeah, ok.” He said, almost a sigh, leaning against Harry for a little support, “Yeah, we can do that.”

“Good,” Harry said, eyes all smiles.  He dropped a kiss on Louis’s head, “I’m gonna go shower and change, I’ll be quick, ok?”

“mmhmm”  Louis said, still feeling a little breathless.

“Love you, Lou.” He whispered.

“Love you, too.”

They’d taken their time on the walk home, at first.  Zigzagging down the short cut, racing each other to jump on the iced over puddles, both wanting to enjoy the satisfying crunch of it cracking beneath their feet. 

“Mine! Mine!” Harry called out, spotting a particularly promising, half-frozen and air pocket riddled puddle ahead.  But Louis’d stopped walking, he was staring dazedly at the patch in the ivy, the part of the fence through which he’d first seen Harry.  The leaves were all gone now, but he could still make out the gap, based on the growth of the vines. He smiled.

“Lou?” Harry said, walking back toward him, looking lovely, his cheeks mottled from the cold and from darting around on the path.

Louis just looked up at him, smiling, feeling like a sentimental fool in love.

Harry looked at him questioningly.

“It’s where we first met,” Louis explained, his eyes crinkling.

“Oh!” Harry said, his eyes widening with emotion. “Oh.” He said again, voice softer this time. He put a hand on Louis lower back and pulled Louis snug against him, dropping his head and kissing him sweet and slow.  Louis’s eyelashes were fluttering when they broke apart.  He rested his head on Harry’s chest.

“Think we should- we should probably get home,” Louis rasped, “Sooner, rather than later.”

Harry chuckled softly, his sternum vibrating beneath Louis’s forehead.  He nodded.  They avoided all the puddles from there on out.

They were both giggling when they got to the house, Harry grabbing at Louis’s ass all the way up the stairs.

“Hey, Chad.” Harry said with a self-satisfied snort, as they entered Louis’s room. Louis rolled his eyes, smirking.  Many years before, Louis had hung a One Tree Hill poster on the wall, above his desk. Chad Michael Murray was in the foreground, all self-serious, squinting at the camera.  Louis had pretty much all forgotten about it, but then he’d showed Harry his room for the first time and Harry had let out a huge squawk of shocked delight when he seen it. He’d proceeded to cry actual tears of laughter over the thing.

“I can’t- I don’t-,” He’d gasped out, collapsing on Louis’s bed, weak from his unrelenting gales of laughter. “Chad Michael Murray, Louis??”

Louis just stood in the middle of the room, arms across his chest, fighting down a smile. “It was a _long_ time ago, ok?” he said, huffily.

Harry had nodded silently from the bed, smiling a huge and fond smile at Louis, dimples so deep, and obviously Louis couldn’t help but kiss him.  Of course, Harry had never let it go.  He greeted Chad every time he came into the room and got the biggest kick out of occasionally asking Louis if he was with him while they were on the phone together.  “You’re not with Chad Michael, are you Lou? Tell the truth!  I’ll know if you’re lying.”  Or  “Ok, guh night. Love you, tell Chad I said hello.” Louis pretended to get all grumpy about it, but really he loved it, and Harry was aware.

“Leave Chad Michael out of this, please.” Louis said, with a little laugh, sitting down on the edge of his bed.  He paused, looking at Harry across the room purposefully, up from under his lashes.  “Just you and me, this time, Harold.” He said, a small smile on his face, voice low.

Harry stilled at his words and took a ragged breath, and Louis knew things had turned serious and his stomach flipped over.  He felt emotional and electric, all nerves.

“C’mere, love,” He said, roughly, beckoning Harry toward him, his heart rate picking up.  Harry walked over to him quietly, twisting his hand together, looking young and nervously hopeful and so so full of love. _Beautiful_. Louis had so much affection for Harry inside him at that moment that there was a sharpness to it, a painful ache.

Harry stood in front of him, hands still intertwined and Louis covered them with his own, tugging them apart gently and just holding them for a minute, his breath deep and heavy.  He pulled on Harry’s arm a little, and Harry dropped to the bed next to him, so they were sitting side by side, Harry’s own chest heaving.  Two of their hands were still clasped together, and they laced and relaced their fingers slowly, relishing the feel of skin on moving over skin. It was gradually lighting up Louis’s whole body. The movement of Harry’s fingers under and over his own filled him with a deep building want and so much love. Louis shivered and Harry’s breath caught in his throat as the sensation became too much. 

“Louis,” Harry choked out, his throat thick with emotion.

Louis turned into Harry on the bed, pushing him back gently until he was lying down and Louis was hovering over him.

“Hazza,” He whispered.  Louis’s skin hurt, he loved Harry so much. He brushed the curls off of Harry’s forehead and then trailed his fingers from Harry’s temple to his chin. Harry nuzzled into the touch and trembled, biting his lip over a little keen. He was regarding Louis in that way he had, eyes so wide and so full of adoring wonder that Louis gasped, overwhelmed, “God Harry, I l-love you so- I love you so much.” His stammered, his voice jagged from desire and intensity of feeling. He sucked in a breath, “so much, so lovely.” He said, before kissing Harry at long last.

God, kissing Harry, somehow it always managed to seemed better than the time before. They started slow and almost excruciatingly tender, their tongues moving against each other in a gentle, teasing way that drew small murmuring noises of pleasure from Harry, each one sending a pulsing spike of arousal through Louis’s body. Eventually, Harry let out a resonating groan and deepened the kiss, pulling Louis flush against him so he was slotted between Harry’s legs.

“Louis,” Harry said, breathlessly, as the broke apart panting, their foreheads pressed together. “I love you too. So much-” his breath caught in his throat again. He lay back against the bed and let Louis kissed down his throat as he slowly unzipped Harry’s hoodie with a shaking hand. Harry had been naked underneath the sweatshirt and opening it gave Louis access to a creamy expanse of warm smooth skin. He licked at the soft dark buds of Harry’s nipples, biting down on one softly, as he shucked the hoodie off Harry’s shoulders. Harry squeaked and moaned at the sensation, his hips rising up off the bed. “ _Louis_. God.” He whined, his breath coming short.

“Jesus,” Louis said, going up on his knees so he could take in Harry’s entire torso, shaking his head at the impossible leanness, at the perfection of the line of Harry’s body. “Never want to stop looking at you, ever, Haz. Never, ever.” He ran his hands up and down the length of Harry’s body, skimming the back the backs of his knuckles up the tender flesh of Harry’s sides, drawing goose bumps on his skin. Harry shivered in pleasure, flushing hot under Louis’s gaze.

“Louis,” Harry moaned out, his beautiful eyes dark and glinting in the dimly lit room, “Louis, I want you.  I want you. So bad. Please.” His body was almost twitching with it as he squirmed on the bed, Louis hovering over him. Harry tugged at the button at the top of Louis’s trousers ineffectively and made a hilariously childish noise of frustration. Louis laughed. “ok, ok.” He said, breathless, a little delirious with lust. “Let’s get you naked first, since that’ll be simple.” He murmured, almost to himself.  He tugged Harry’s sweats and boxers off in one go, pausing to close his eyes and curse at the sight of Harry’s flawless cock, hard as rock and curved up against his belly.  “God.” He whispered, shaking his head, and then standing up and quickly undressing, pulling off his t-shirt and wriggling out of his skinny jeans and pants. Harry had gone up on his elbows, to get a better look, and when Louis righted himself, fully disrobed, Harry swore softly under his breath, a proud little smile on his face. “Fuck, _Lou_.” He breathed out, collapsing back against the bed, “So fucking beautiful. Want you so much.”

Louis nodded, smiling down at Harry from the side of the bed, “Want you, too, Hazza. Always want you.” He reached out and stroked Harry’s cock once or twice, almost experimentally, chuckling as Harry’s hips buck at the touch, “We’ll go slow, ok, love?”

Harry nodded, biting his lip, watching as Louis rummaged through the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out the lube and a condom.  “You’re sure?” Louis asked, cocking his head to the side.

“mmhmm” Harry said, nodding again, still wide eyed. 

Louis positioned himself between Harry’s ridiculous legs, hitching one up for better access.

“Lou.” Harry said, just as Louis was coating his fingers. Louis stopped moving immediately, looking up at Harry in concern.  Harry laughed, “No, don’t, don’t stop. I.” he rolled his eyes at himself, a bit sheepish. “I just. I really love you a lot. Just wanted to say it. Again.”

Louis felt his whole body melt at Harry’s words, at the way his eyes were so full of trust, at how he could see just a hint tears at their corners.

“Hazza,” He said hoarsely, feeling the punch of emotion in his gut, “I love you too.” They gazed at each other for a moment, just staring into each other’s eyes.

“Ok,” Harry finally said, waveringly, gesturing down toward his pelvis and laughing, “As you were, then. Have your way with me, please.”

Louis shook his head with a little laugh, kissing Harry on the shoulder, as he reached down and ghosted a finger over him, drawing a sharp gasp.  He worked in slowly, opening him up. One finger, then two, Harry gasping more and more, moaning and squirming on the bed as Louis crooked them, grazing Harry’s prostate, making Harry’s hips jerk.

“Fuck, Louis. Please, more.” Harry choked out, his hair dampened by sweat, his chest slick with it, a flush crawling across his body. “more.”

Louis kissed him on the collarbone and added a third finger, drawing the biggest gasp yet. 

“God.” Harry groaned, as Louis’s fingers continued their work, “Louis, god, please. I’m ready. Please.” _Holy Christ._ Every moaned word was going straight to Louis’s cock.

“Are you sure?” He arched an eyebrow as he looked up at Harry.

Harry nodded emphatically, letting out a growling moan as Louis’s fingers dragged across his prostate yet again. “God, Please. Fuck me. Please. Louis. Please” Harry was practically writhing with desire now, he looked achingly hard, his cock leaking a little against his stomach.  Louis had never been so turned on in his whole life. He eased his fingers out of Harry, ripping the foil packet open with his teeth and then sliding the condom down his own dick, groaning at the feel of it, painfully hard himself. Louis slicked his length up quickly and braced himself over Harry on one of his forearms, his whole body strung tight with lust, almost quivering. 

“Ok?”

Harry swallowed and nodded.

“I love you, Haz,” Louis said shakily, feeling absolutely swamped with emotion. He bent his head and kissed Harry softly, pressing slowly into him as he did. Harry’s breath caught as Louis edged further in, breaking the kiss. He looked up at Louis slack jawed.

Louis stilled, “alright?” he asked, his voice a wrecked rasp. He shuddered slightly at the intensity of sensation, at the tightness of Harry around him.

Harry nodded breathlessly, urging Louis on.  His hands fisted in the blankets beneath him as Louis pushed all the way inside at last. Louis was panting and trembling while Harry adjusted to the size of him, fighting madly against the persistent urge to move.

“Ok,” Harry let out finally, placing one his perfectly huge hands on the small of Louis’s back and following it up with a rapid stream of words. “Ok. You can move. You can move. Please, Louis. Please move.”

Louis gave a little sob of a laugh and gradually began to move his hips, rocking into Harry slowly, taking long strokes, drawing moans from Harry with each one.

“God, Harry.” Louis bit out as he moved, breathing jagged. He felt overwhelmed, completely overwhelmed. He wasn’t going to last very long. “Good, so fucking good.”

 Harry smiled up at him and nodded in agreement, biting his lip. He looked radiant and flushed with love and desire, utterly gorgeous beneath Louis.

“Louis. _Fuck_.” He moaned, crying out as Louis changed the angle slightly and hit his prostate. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Louis trembled as Harry’s words washed over him, nearly coming apart on the spot. “m’close, Hazza,” He murmured, reaching between them to stroke Harry’s cock as he continued to fuck into him, “So close. So close.” Louis could tell that Harry was close too, by the shuddering breath he taken when Louis had begun to touch him, so he increased his pace, rocking into Harry harder, almost snapping his hips.

“Oh _god._ Louis. _God_.” Harry let out, making a choked sobbing sound as he came, hard, spilling between them, his body clenching around Louis as he did. That, combined with the ruined sound of Harry’s voice as he said Louis’s name, sent Louis right over the edge as well. He was momentarily annihilated by pleasure, babbling in Harry’s ear about so much love so much love, as he rode it out. 

He collapsed on top of Harry then, boneless and exhausted and Harry ran his hands up and down Louis’s back, smiling with love-fogged eyes. 

“Love you.” Harry said, his voice still weak.

“Love you, too.” Louis said back, his response muffled in Harry’s skin.

They lay there together, staring at their intertwined hands as they laced and relaced their fingers again, and Louis felt utterly content.  After about a minute or so he pulled carefully out of Harry and padded down the hallway to the bathroom to flush the condom and get a washcloth.

“ _Haz_ ,” He said, when he got back to his room and saw Harry’s face.

“It’s from happiness, ok?” Harry bleated out quickly, in a somewhat adorably pathetic manner. He gave a wavery, slightly embarrassed laugh, wiping at the tears on his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Don’t make fun.”

Louis felt just so endeared right then, it was causing this strange pain in his bones. He smiled softly, crossing the room to kiss along Harry’s jawline and shake his head as he cleaned Harry’s stomach off with the washcloth. “Harold, I would never!” He said, his tone lightly mocking, but full of soft love. He threw the washcloth toward his overflowing hamper and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over Harry, feeling a bit ridiculous, like love was shooting right out of his face at him. Like love rays were beaming right out of his eyes. He swallowed a lump of emotion, a bittersweet twist in his heart that the night wouldn’t last forever, that soon it would just be a wonderful memory. Louis felt himself mist up as Harry held his gaze, smiling tearfully up at him, looking unimaginably happy. “See? See what you’ve done to me, Styles?” Louis said, gesturing to the tears in his own eyes, “You’ve ruined me. Ruined me forever.”

It seemed like Harry’s eyes started to sparkle even more after that and he yanked Louis down onto his chest, into something that was a little closer to a chokehold than a hug.

“Can’t really breathe, Hazza.” Louis mumbled, and Harry relaxed his grip.

“Sorry, Lou.” He said, his voice incredibly slow and morose, rising and falling in this ridiculous, almost sing-songy way. He sounded remarkably like Eeyore. They both started to laugh quietly, but continually, as Louis worked to rearrange them so that they were settled in under the covers and he could use Harry’s broad chest as a pillow, tucked in under Harry’s chin.  They were still giggling about it on and off several minutes later. 

“Sorry, Lou.” Louis said, after a lull, exaggerating Harry’s over the top tone perfectly and sending them into renewed fits of breathless giggles. Harry snorted and poked at Louis’s stomach in false protest.

“You are such a dork,” Louis moaned out happily, as his laughter started to calm. “Such a dork.”

“Shut up.” Harry mumbled equally happily, tucking Louis in further against his body and sighing contentedly.

And suddenly Louis felt almost on the verge of tears again, the intensity of his love for Harry sharp in his heart. He felt utterly bewildered by how he could have possibly gotten so lucky, “I love you.” He said thickly, pressing his cheek into Harry’s chest and draping his arm across his upper body.  He knew that Harry could sense how he felt, could feel the depth of his emotion, because he pressed Louis impossibly closer and dropped a kiss into his hair.

“Louis.” He said, his voice velvety and serious and reassuring, “I love you, too.”

It was moments like that, where Louis realized the actual scope of his love for Harry, how truly expansive it was, that helped caused his epiphany about their relationship during Battle of the Bands.  It made Louis realize that he loved Harry not only because he wanted to fuck him all the time, but also because he wanted to laugh with Harry about how he was such a dork, about how they both were, everyday for the rest of their lives. Essential, Harry was essential. 

Louis would think back to the night they won Battle of the Bands years from then, and through the soft, shimmery filter of his memory, everyone who was there that night would always seem so strikingly beautiful. Niall, hoisting up the trophy with his wiry arms, his round blue eyes blazing with victory, skipping around the auditorium and hugging everyone in sight.  Liam, standing shyly in the corner with Patty Bishop as the event wound down, finally working up the nerve to hold her hand, his cheeks bright pink.  Zayn, intimidatingly gorgeous and professional in the slim cut suit he wore to be emcee.  Nick and Gemma, the looks on their faces when they came up to congratulate them, surprised and impressed and happy for them, all at once.  And of course Harry, always Harry, most of all.  Harry, burning so bright hot on stage, smiling so openly after they won, pulling on Louis’s fingers and demanding a kiss.

“Love you, Lou.” He whispered in Louis’s ear, as Niall kicked up the celebration balloons on the stage behind them, hooting and hollering about the magnificence of Wendy.

“I love you, too.” Louis said back, knowing his eyes were so intensely fond, feeling like his heart was beating just for Harry.

“This isn’t over, Tomlinson,” Harry had said, a smile in his eyes, “Just so you know. It’s not over, not yet.”


End file.
